


I will help you swim

by Marshmallowmachinegun



Series: I Will Help You Swim [1]
Category: Cable and Deadpool, Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bottom Wade Wilson, Disturbing Themes, Drug Addiction, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Eating Disorders, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, Hipster Peter Parker, I will tag all trigger warnings, I'm borrowing elements from both film and comics, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Inspired by Harmony Korine movies, Inspired by Music, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Parent/Child Incest, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Rape Recovery, Self-Harm, Slow Build, Sub Wade Wilson, Suicide Attempt, Therapy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Wade Has Issues, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, playing fast and loose with canon, punk Wade Wilson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 06:43:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6943984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marshmallowmachinegun/pseuds/Marshmallowmachinegun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Parker is a stressed out, anxiety-ridden college student who works too hard and plays too little. After a shift from hell at his crummy job he decides to cut loose and wanders into a derelict dive bar run by a man named Weasel of all things. And inside he meets Wade, a punk man with a seemingly carefree air and no path in life and a body (and soul) covered in scars.</p><p>Wade Wilson is a walking disaster. His life is one bad decision after another, with no end in sight to the misery that has dogged him since infancy. But when he sees a tiny, baby-faced brunette being hassled in his favorite bar, he makes a decision that for once, doesn't suck.</p><p>Now they both just have to learn to swim instead of drown.</p><p>*this story has not been abandoned!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You're drunk, you're sexy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter songs:
> 
> Bear's Den-Hard Life  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p5tPrmvEbpQ
> 
> The Front Bottoms-Be nice to me  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FkW83uHIq-E
> 
> I based Wade's physical apperance on how he looked in Cable And Deadpool 
> 
> http://www.4thletter.net/gavok/deadpool/32.jpg  
> http://thediscourseblogs.tumblr.com/post/143339338581/chloeatnight-ok-a-little-context-somewhere

It was official, Peter hated his life.

He trudged through the streets of New York, hat tugged down and glare burnt onto his usually smooth features. Not even the homeless littering the corners acknowledged him, and Peter always gave them something, despite bring broke as hell himself.

He should get back to his dorm, that is all he had on his mind most nights after a shift from hell at his crummy cashiering gig. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if the customers weren't all old farts who had to give him flack over everything. Honestly if Peter had to hear the phrases "I thought this was on sale!" or "Could you go faster, I'm in a hurry" One more time he would seriously snap and start beating people with his price scanner. Fortunately he made it through the last nine hours with no spilled blood but significantly higher blood pressure. The idea of going back to his tiny cramped dorm with Harry "full ride from daddy" Osborn who ladled him with trite epithets ("you know Gandhi once said...") only deepened his already subterranean mood.

No way in hell Peter was going there, not right now. What he needed now was some way to unwind, get his mind off of murdering everybody he saw, and paste back on his happy go luck persona before anyone noticed it was cracked.

He had to get really fucking drunk.

But he had to do it in a place where he wouldn't run into any of his slaphappy classmates. The last thing Peter "introvert" Parker wanted was to have more social interaction thrust on him.

Which is how he wound up in front of a scuzzy bar with a number of burly biker gentlemen loitering out front. Through the haze of cigarette smoke he darted inside, where the dim lighting and loud music only furthered his disorientation. Peter was not a drinker, never had been, he just never got the taste for alcohol that his friends had. But there was one drink he liked, that he could guzzle in large amounts without getting sick.

Trying to look cool despite his dorky [work uniform](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=199001773) and generally wimpy physicality, he sauntered up to the bar, where a tall man with hipster glasses and shoulder length dirty blond hair was cleaning a glass.

"Umm" ' _Great way to start Parker_ ' "I would like an amaretto sour please, extra ice." Peter was afraid at first that the man at the bar would give him grief, but instead he got a toothy grin and a "coming right up" he sat on the torn bar stool anxiously aware of eyes on his back.

"Here ya go Arnold" The barkeep placed the glass in front of him with a flourish "I never get to make cocktails that often, kind of nice to flex the ol muscles." Peter took an experimental sip and sighed inwardly, it was pretty damn good. "Thank you sir" He said with genuine sincerity "but I don't appreciate the Revenge Of The Nerds nickname."

The man snorted and resumed cleaning the glass "Don't call me sir, sir was my uncle's granddaddy's name or however the fuck that expression goes, names Weasel" Weasel placed the now clean glass in the pile growing on the bar. "And I calls them as I sees them, with the glasses you totes could pass as a cuter Poindexter, like the porn remake of Revenge or some shit." Peter smirked around his glass, emptying it much faster than usual "keep these coming and you can call me whatever the hell you want."

Ten amarettos and several eighties movie references later Peter was in a high rollingly good mood. He and Weasel were having quite the time arguing over which was better, Willow or The Emerald Forest, when he suddenly became hyper aware of his bladder.

"oop, exsuza moi" Peter slurred, standing on unsteady feet "gotta visit the little boys room." Weasel looked slightly concerned for a moment but shrugged "whatevs, just don't blow chunks on the floor."

The ground under him quaked like an ocean liner. He stumbled and laughed to himself, suddenly remembering an old viral video featuring a dancing cat. Lost in his thoughts he rammed head first into the back of a large leather clad man. "Hey!" Peter glanced up into a pair of beady black eyes and a ridiculously bushy beard "Gimli! You got taller!" Peter declared brightly, grabbing the man's broad shoulders.

While his companions and several other patrons snickered at the sight of a puny drunk college boy smarting off at such a rough and tumble fellow, the said fellow did not approve. Glaring darkly at Peter, he shoved the young man to the floor, which felt like a much longer journey than normal because of his intoxicated state.

His head bounced off the dirty wood, the sudden impact knocked the wind out of him, but the pain was dulled significantly. He was vaguely aware of someone talking above him, and a brief scuffle, before strong hands raised him up off the floor.

"Well your hanging on like hair on a biscuit" A low voice rasped in his ear, the sound went straight to Peter's lower stomach, tingles spreading through his body. Slowly he took in the sight before him. A man, early twenties, dressed like a [punk ](http://www.polyvore.com/wade-chapter_one/set?id=199001746)with the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen. Peter's own hazel darted, struggling to take in everything. Strong jaw, cute nose, his lips were pouty, the bottom one prettily plump, his spiky blonde hair stuck out in several different directions, crushed under his kitty ear hat. He smelled vaguely of leather, cigarette smoke, sweat, and less than clean hair.

"Pretty..." Peter mumbled, drunkenly snuggling the man's broad chest. A sane, sober part of Peter's brain was screaming to stop making a fool of himself, but the smashed side didn't give a fuck. This guy was hot, had a sexy voice perfect for ASMR, and Peter fit perfectly in his muscular arms. The man gave a low, rumbly chuckle, and it was doing a number on Peter's lower body "Okay baby boy, we gotta get you some h two oh, or else your gonna be hurting in the morning."

Leading Peter like a child to a table tucked into the corner, the man set him down gently as possible, chuckling again when Peter whined at the loss of his presence. "Your cute kid, but I'l brb yeah, promise I won't be AWOL for long" He took his leave then, fighting through the crowd and disappearing in the throng of bodies.

Peter's phone vibrated for the millionth time that night, and with a groan he pulled it out and unlocked the screen with his thumbprint (which was way more difficult than it should have been, his hands were slick with sweat.) A frown tugged at his lips when he realized that not only had Harry blown his phone up, but so had MJ and Gwen. It was one thing to bug or worry Harry, it was another to bug or worry those two. MJ was a real sweetheart, but a total busybody; her business was knowing everybody else's business and when she caught wind that Peter was out drunk in a dive bar he would never hear the end of it. Gwen would be a bit more lenient, she was one of the few people cool enough to upkeep a friendship with her ex boyfriend. The ex in question being Peter. Things hadn't worked out while they were dating but as friends they really hit it off. He chewed his already ragged nails, tearing off a bit of cuticle. The tiny sting of pain grounded him. Gwen would probably just laugh and ask for details of his night.

His thoughts were interrupted by the return of his mysterious knight in torn denim. "Here we go baby boy" he set a tall glass of water down, along with a large slice of pepperoni pizza, grease soaking the paper plate. "Food here sucks, but you need to sop up the booze, so water for you" He grinned and practically swan dived into the seat opposite him "and a jack and coke for me! Names Wade btw."

Once Peter figured out both how hands were supposed to work and how to hold the huge slice, he took an experimental bite. It wasn't bad, but not great. "Thank you...Wade" He said around the food in his mouth "Also, my name isn't baby boy, its Peter."

Staring at him over the rim of his collins, those lovely blue eyes flashed with mischief "you look like a baby boy, whoever made your fake must be one hell of a guy." He gulped his drink in one huge mouthful, and Peter had to begrudgingly admit he was impressed. The blonde's tongue darted out to lick the excess alcohol from his lips, and Peter felt his face heat up. Through the man's tongue was a tiny silver stud. He had heard in passing that tongue rings felt really good wrapped around your...

"I'm twenty two! And aren't you hot?" Peter struggled to bring the conversation to something other than the fire surging through his body, that and the tell tale signs of an erection pressing against his zipper. Peter had shrugged off his flannel hours ago, as well as his beanie, he imagined Wade must be dying under all those layers. Wade gave him an odd look, it was equal parts fearful and annoyed.

"Nope, perfectly fine Petey-Pie." He tugged the thick denim tighter around his frame, silent for a moment while he fiddled with his bracelets, before resuming his chatter. Peter was thankful that Wade was so talkative, he honestly was loosing the ability to form coherent sentences. The food was helping, but the longer he sat there, and the longer the alcohol coursed through his system, the drunker he felt.

He had lost Wade's train of conversation ages ago, so he occupied his brain by playing the theme to Super Mario Sunshine in his head.

"Oi! You listening baby boy?" Peter snapped back to reality, saddened that he hadn't gotten to his favorite bits of the ost. "S-sorry, whats up?" Wade grinned evilly and continued on his tangent "Well have you ever seen an uncircumcised dick?" Peter was once again dimly aware that under normal circumstances he would be mortified, hell he probably wouldn't have given Wade the time of day sober. He looked like trouble, smelled like trouble, and despite his painted fingernails and cute t-shirt, Peter was certain he could fuck a person up no problem. Maybe that is what was making Peter so turned on, he had never been one for "bad boys"(Felicia was a horse of a different color and gender, maybe bad girls were different?) or for boys at all to be honest. He hadn't given himself a label, and he had only been with one guy. But Johnny was the school bike, everyone had ridden him. Unlike Wade, with the pansexual pride necklace dangling from his taut neck, it was obvious what he was into. He was wearing a collar as well, and the implications of that only made the situation worse.

"Nope" He polished off the last of his pizza, leaving the crust on the plate, which morally offended Wade. Whatever had lead them to the topic of dicks had swiftly been replaced by the merits of pizza crust. "But you have to like _stuffed_ crust!" Wade slammed his palms on the table, causing the empty glasses to jump.

Peter sighed and rested his head on the cold Formica "crust is glorified soggy bread and no amount of cheese can fix that."

Peter was once again rudely reminded that he had never emptied his bladder, and the addition of several glasses of water intensified the ache. The raging hard on only made the need stronger.

He stood on wobbly feet, grunting that he really had to piss, and stumbled over his own shoes, almost hitting the floor again.

"Hey baby boy!" Wade reached out and grabbed Peter's arm, pulling him close "your drunker than a creepy uncle on Christmas, let me help you."

All at once the strange attraction Peter had been fighting all evening came crashing around him. Wade's dark aroma, his husky voice, his blue eyes; Peter couldn't take it anymore. He glowered up from Wade's chest, determination etched into his expression. "baby boy..." But Peter snatched a handful of soft blonde hair, silencing him with a kiss, growling "shut up" into the other man's mouth.

He had never been so forward in his life. Wasn't booze supposed to make it nigh impossible to get it up?

Peter moaned shamelessly, tongue darting out to lap at the plump lips seemingly frozen in a permanent moue; Wade tasted like Jack Daniels and smoke, with a tinge of something sweet underneath, a lip balm of some sort.

Peter was about to worm his way up Wade's shirt when he felt strong hands shove him away. Wade opened and closed his mouth like a fish, and for the first time in their short meeting was at a loss for words.

Peter wanted to reach out, grab Wade and pull him down to kiss him again, but he had been hit with the full effect of his binge drinking. The room swirled in a blurred tangle of lights and sounds, and before he passed out, he threw up down Wade's front. Then he heard nothing else but the sound of his body hitting the floor for the millionth time that night.


	2. Never what it seems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter songs:
> 
> Old Sea Brigade - Better Days  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-TOXykXVqrQ
> 
> FIELDS - In The Morning  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S7l2GsNZO_o&index=5&list=PLzkLQzsfR9YebqijabXRNSfFdzRwcTmuU
> 
>  

Peter's head felt as if it were full of steel balls. 

He was lying face down in what was essentially a puddle of his own drool. Despite the dimness and sheer silence of the room, it still seemed too bright and too loud. The throbbing and pounding of his brain reminiscent of a sea hitting the shore. It was utter disgust that finally spurred him into lifting his head. Rolling over took another two minute pep talk. Opening his eyes was damn near impossible, but he gave it the ol' college try.

When he did though, he realized that he had no damn clue where he was.  This was certainly not his dorm. The bed was lumpy as all hell, springs had worn through and poked him in the ass. His dorm had white, pristine ceilings; the one above him was that peculiar shade in between gray and white, fissures and chips running along the surface. Peter could feel the panic building in his chest. He had no idea where he was, he could hardly remember anything from the last twelve hours, he was in a strange bed. Rumpled black sheets wound so tightly around his body it almost made him claustrophobic. 

There were several explanations for his predicament.  
One, he hopped in the sack with a complete stranger. Two, he had been drugged. Three, he was about to be murdered. 

To be frank none of those options sounded good to him. 

Peter groaned and rubbed his raw eyes until colors burst behind his lids. All he wanted now was a long shower and some coffee. Good coffee. Strong coffee. Something to get this God forsaken headache to let up.  He used what remained of his energy to sit upright, and when he did, Peter knew at once where he was. The clothes strewn in the corner of the room gave it away. Poking out of the balled up mound was a bright slash of turquoise. Heavy black combat boots tossed carelessly beside it. The smell that enveloped him (leather, smoke, sweat...) only confirmed his suspicions. 

Wade. He was with Wade. 

Peter wasn't quite sure if that was reassuring or not. He had to find the man and ask him what the hell had happened between last night and now. Even if the truth was horrible it was better than leaving and never knowing. 

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he had another dour discovery. The clothes he was wearing last night were gone, replaced by a new set of [pajamas](http://www.polyvore.com/peter_chapter_two_pajamas/set?id=199085637), which reeked of Wade. All this newfound development did was cause Peter more anxiety. But if Wade had just whammed and bammed him, why would he bother to dress him? He had to find Wade. And fast. 

Stuffing his feet into the goofy slippers placed carefully beside the bed, he then noticed that a big glass of water, and a bottle of aspirin, were set purposefully on the nightstand. Peter argued internally for quite some time over the merits of taking the pills, and in a show of brazen trust (naivete) he gulped the water and took two aspirin. Anything was better than his head feeling like it had been hit by a baseball bat.  His backpack was set beside the door, and a quick once over revealed that nothing had been touched. His camera, phone, and wallet were left as they were. 

Wade's apartment wasn't the cleanest, but it did not feel unsafe. If anything Peter felt somewhat cared for. Wade had not snooped through his things and cared enough to give him pain killers. He still knew he had to find him, even if was just to say thank you. 

Finding Wade was easier than Peter expected, as the apartment was rather small. He followed the distinct noise of some sort of video game music down the hall and into the sparsely decorated living room. A threadbare sofa sat in the middle of the floor. A television not that far from it. The windows were somewhat dirty and covered in heavy opaque tapestries. Bottles were carelessly tossed on the floor, along with DVD and video game jewel cases, all cracked from being stepped on. The coffee table between couch and TV was cratered with cigarette burns. 

The music was revealed to be from Street Fighter IV, a game that Peter was not too familiar with, but he was more of a Nintendo fan himself. 

Wade was bundled up in a rough looking plaid blanket, pockmarked with rips and burns. He still held the controller in his fist, and his snoring was like a lawnmower that wouldn't start. 

Occupying the coffee table was a fifth of fireball whiskey, and a cigarette burned down to the filter crammed into, of all things, a [hello kitty ashtray](http://thumbs4.ebaystatic.com/d/l800/pict/291691506403_1.jpg). Raunchy magazines, dogeared to what Peter assumed were the best pages, were simply strewn about, both on the table and on the scuffed wooden floor. Oyster boxes and 7Eleven cups were stacked in a malformed pyramid in the corner. Taco Bell wrappers were the piece de resistance of the room. 

  
Peter leaned forward and hesitated, unsure of how to wake up his unexpected host. Wade tossed around for a bit, letting go of the controller and clutching a ridiculous [throw pillow](http://rlv.zcache.com/funny_quotes_gifts_unique_humor_joke_throw_pillows-rafb5a226ede04ae3accddd99d861356a_i5fqz_8byvr_512.jpg) to his chest. When he did this, the blanket covering him slid down, and Peter was greeted by a rather gruesome sight. 

  
Wade's arms, concealed last night by torn denim, were horribly, horrifically, scarred. 

The angry red lines covered almost all of his skin. There was precious little space between the marks; some looked deep, some superficial, but all of them frightened and confused Peter. He had never seen anything like this.

Yes, he took a psychology course.

Yes, he had seen self-harm scars.

But Wade's cicatrices were a whole different animal. The tracks spoke volumes about the man in front of him. 

Peter had always thought he had a good read on people. His first impressions were rarely wrong. Last night Wade was so happy and full of life; if Peter closed his eyes he could easily recall that loud, throaty bark that was Wade's laugh. Peter could not remember another time when he was so shocked and...saddened, by a revelation such as this. 

Wade obviously wanted to keep this to himself, he didn't want his marred flesh on display, and before Peter could decide to either cover him up or run back into the room he woke up in, Wade's eyes fluttered open. Blue met hazel and the contact seemed to last forever. In the meager light illuminating the apartment, Peter could see how tired Wade looked, his eyes framed by black shadows. His hair looked somewhat greasy, he needed a shower. 

"Well look who crawled out of bed" Wade's expression was mischievous, his voice even more hoarse from sleep; he bounced heavily on his back and wriggled until he sat upright. "You were out cold Petey, you hit that fucking bottle hardcore last night!" The blond was about to continue on his tangent, but he quickly realized his predicament and the jovial mood soured. Peter couldn't escape the confrontation now.

Would Wade be angry? 

Wade's face flushed crimson and he desperately searched the area around the sofa, "Shit Peter I'm so sorry I know I have a hoodie here somewhere."  Peter wanted to do something, he could not let the man's panic get any worse.  Doing the only thing he could think of, he reached out and grasped Wade's shoulder. Not hard enough to bruise, but enough to let Wade know he was there. Maybe even reassure him.

  
Wade slowed his movements and turned his gaze towards the brunette before him. Once again blue met hazel and the spark that passed between them was palpable. The air seemingly charged with electricity. Peter released the other man's shoulder and dropped to his knees, making himself eye level with Wade. Up this close he could see the despair in Wade's expression. Peter had no idea what to say, but he had to take action. The man he had so clearly misjudged needed help. Even though this was way beyond anything he had dealt with before. He would do everything in his power to stop it. 

Peter took the other man's hands in his and turned Wade's arms over, exposing the ridges and wounds dug deeply into the soft skin. Slowly Peter's fingers brushed over several particularly disturbing scars; they were faded but when traced over Peter could make out the words carved, to never be forgotten. 

_**Fuck up** _

Wade drew away from Peter in a hasty bade for retreat, his quest for the almighty hoodie was over and the blonde struggled into it as quickly as he possibly could. He then stood up,  purposefully side stepping Peter and seemingly spoke to the cluttered floor. "Don't know about you baby boy, but I need some fucking coffee." Peter frowned at the false bravado in Wade's tone, he knew he had to talk to Wade, say anything to him. He could not let him suffer. 

' _Speaking of suffering_...'

Now that Peter got a good look at his companion, that damn strange feeling that had overtaken him at the bar came roaring back to life. Wade had pattered into the kitchenette, fuzzy bunny slippers on his feet and Peter traced the shape of his legs to the toned, well formed thighs crossed over each other as he perched on the counter. The coffee maker was bubbling and the rich aroma perfumed the entire apartment. 

Wade was enamored with his phone, and did not notice Peter getting an eyeful of his physique. The stare was unabashedly lecherous, taking in every detail of the blonde's body. Aside from his hoodie and multicolored knee socks, he was [clad ](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=199082717)in a pair of pink, striped panties.

Not briefs

Panties. 

Peter assumed he had just lost what remained of his mind due to stress, or alcohol poisoning. He had never even felt the slightest flicker of interest in cross dressing, but on Wade...The fabric hugged him in all the right places, when he stretched the hoodie rode high and Peter could see the faint outline of hipbones. There were scars there as well.

"Umm" An awkward silence hung like a wet tarp. Peter scratched the back of his neck and shifted from foot to foot. "Would you mind if I used your shower...I feel, like, really fucking gross." The brunette could not recall a time when he felt this grimy. Not even when he went camping in the goddamn woods did he feel this filthy. 

  
Wade had abandoned his phone and was now busy digging through the cabinet for cups, grumbling that most of his kitchenware had been destroyed or thrown out. Judging from the numerous containers, wrappers, and boxes; Wade must live off of take out food, Peter could not see much of his cabinet, but it appeared he had zero to no dishes.  
"A-HA!" Wade whopped joyfully when he discovered a second mug squirreled away deep in the shelves. "Hell fucking yes I knew I had two!"  
Wade did a celebratory twirl, still revealing in his find when Peter gave a cough, struggling to get the other man's attention, he knew it was rude, but damnit he wanted a shower.

  
Breathless from the unexpected exertion, Wade cocked his head to the side, staring at Peter with those large blue eyes. The expression was hard to read, it was like Wade wasn't even looking at him. It was slightly disturbing.

  
"S-Sorry Petey Pie, yeah of course you can take a shower!" Wade set the coveted mugs down on the counter and hopped like a baby chick to where Peter stood awkwardly in the middle of the tiny kitchen. "Lemme show ya where the towels are, they are prettyyyy clean...I think." The blonde snagged Peter by the arm and quite literally dragged him down the hall. Still chattering away about how happy he was that he found mugs. 

  
' _Holy shit this guy is strong_ ' Wade was not much taller than himself, but he was broader; muscles clearly defined in his arms and chest. It should have freaked him out how easily Wade could move him, but if anything it strengthened the attraction he felt. ' _Pull yourself together Parker_!'

  
Wade made a train noise with his mouth and pumped his fist in the air "Last stop Can-dyland!" Wade flung open the door to reveal the bathroom. Peter honestly had no idea what to expect, judging from the rest of the apartment, but it was surprisingly tidy. The shower curtain was just plain black. "Towels are on the rack above the throne" Wade made a noncommittal gesture with his hand "If you have to pee, please don't do it in the shower, kthxbai!" The other man gave Peter a military salute and slammed the door behind him. From behind the wood Peter could hear Wade belting out some pop song he was somewhat familiar with "I wanna dance with somebodyyy, somebody who lovesss me!"

  
The brunette heaved a heavy sigh as he stripped out of the borrowed clothes to shower. His headache had subsided, but without the coursing pain he was forced to acknowledge how exhausted he was. One stupid decision and here he was; missing class in a strange man's bathroom god knows where. What had gotten into him? Yes, work had sucked, and yes, he was stressed from school and his recent breakup with Felicia; but was that a good excuse to go out and get wasted without telling anyone where he was?

  
Peter folded the pajamas and set them on the back of the toilet. He leafed through the towels (there really were not that many) and tossed that on top of his clothes. He would have been in the tub by now, if something hadn't caught his attention.

  
The sink had several drawers lined vertically on the side, along with a large storage space underneath, Peter tried resisting the urge to snoop. 'Fuck it' He yanked open the first drawer, and instantly regretted his descion when he found bunches of bloody tissues stuffed haphazardly alongside several boxes of razors. None of the blades were clean, some were rusty with blood.

  
Now Peter had to fight the urge to throw out the disgusting tools. He was idealistic, but not that naive. The last thing he wanted was to have Wade angry with him. ' _Besides_ ' He shut the drawer with a melancholic thud ' _he could just go out and buy more_.'

  
Peter wretched back the shower curtain, more than ready to wash last night down the drain.


	3. Sex, drugs, and indie rock and roll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter songs:
> 
> Mountain Schmountain - Coffee Machine  
> https://mountainschmountain.bandcamp.com/album/coffee-machine
> 
> Jaymes Young - I'll Be Good  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=scd-uNNxgrU
> 
> Blackbear- Idfc (acoustic)  
> https://soundcloud.com/iamblackbear/idfc-acoustic
> 
> Ritual-Blood Flow  
> https://soundcloud.com/ritual_music/r-i-t-u-a-l-blood-flow
> 
> Tw: Recreational drug use, sexual content
> 
> Thank you guys for the kudos and comments! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=udKlGnmZ4jc

A contented sigh spilled from Peter's lips as the steaming hot water pounded the back of his neck. He was sore as all hell from sleeping in such a weird position, and the muscles needed a little help relaxing. Each droplet running down his back felt amazing; cleansing him of the previous, miserable night. Peter had a crystalline vision in his head of all the stress, fears, and embarrassment cascading down the drain. Peter was still lost in his reverie when a timid knock sounded at the door.

"Petey I...I thought you might need some new clothes, I'm just gonna put them on the sink? Is that okay or...?" Wade's voice held an astounding amount of respect for his boundaries. Peter was genuinely surprised at the option given to him. He poked his head out from the shower curtain, still keeping himself covered, "thank you Wade, you can just toss them wherever,  come on in." Nearly a minute passed before Wade slowly opened the door. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was feeling around blindly, letting out a triumphant whoop when he found the sink "all right all right all righttt, my duds are gonna swim on your petite little ass, and although I wouldn't mind you walking around bible style I don't think my landlady would like me having naked twinks in my pad." He made a gesture, like he was pulling off an invisible hat, and did a jerky little tapdance out of the bathroom, yelling a brief N'Synch rendition as he went "Bye bye bye!"

Peter sighed once again, only this time there was no comfort in it. It was a confused, morose noise lost in the echo of the running water. Wade was a master at mood whiplash. Peter was still so taken aback by what he had seen not even two hours ago. Wade's scarred, disfigured flesh still conjuring up feelings of tribulation and aversion.  The blonde man seemed more than happy to forget that their earlier encounter had taken place; but Peter could not let something this severe slide by. He had to say something, he just had to decide on what.  Not only that, but Peter still hadn't broached the subject of why he was here in the first place; why had Wade taken him home? The more time he spent with Wade, the less he felt like he was about to be murdered, and the more he felt like the other man had just wanted to get him to a safe locale. 

He did feel safe here, and taken care of. He had gotten used to doing everything on his own, and having someone help him and look after him felt...great actually. But he couldn't take advantage of someone's generosity; so with a heavy heart he shut off the tap and ended his lovely escapade.  Peter dried and dressed quickly, and Wade was not kidding when he said the [clothes ](http://www.polyvore.com/peter-chapter_three/set?id=199108412)would swim on him. The jeans had to be cuffed at the ankles so he would not step on his pants; and the shirt extended way past his bony wrists. He frowned at how scrawny he had gotten over the last four years. Of course he had little money or time for food, but still, he did _not_ look good right now. Peter silently prayed that Wade wouldn't notice his puny frame, and then admonished himself for even caring in the first place.  Leaning over the sink, he splashed his face with icy tap water and rinsed his mouth, squeezing a blob of the blue crest gel sitting beside a well used toothbrush. Hoping that his breath at least smelled somewhat fresh, Peter put on a brave face and rejoined the odd new world he was currently in. 

Puttering into the kitchen, he found a mug of lukewarm coffee and several granola bars on the wobbly table. Peter quickly fixed the coffee, choking it with cream and sugar. His stomach cramped at the idea of food so he forwent the offered breakfast.  Wade was once again nowhere to be seen, a quick survey of the apartment a fruitless effort. Peter was about to give up, to sit and enjoy his cooling beverage when the faint strains of music caught his ears.

' _Deja Vu_ ' The brunette followed the sound back down the hall, back to the room where this whole strange day began. 

The blonde was sitting crossed-legged on the bed, rummaging through a tattered shoe box covered in Lisa Frank stickers. Wade had not noticed Peter standing in the doorway and continued to hum along to the sorrowful [tune ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=scd-uNNxgrU)blaring from his phone, tossed carelessly on the pillows behind him. 

_My past has tasted bitter for years now_

_So I wield an iron fist_

_Grace is just weakness_

_Or so I've been told_

_I've been cold, I've been merciless_

_But the blood on my hands scares me to death_

_Maybe I'm waking up today_...

Peter knocked on the doorframe, feeling timid and as if he was interrupting something private.

Wade however, did not even look up and waved an inviting arm into the room "heyyyy baby boy, your just in time for wake an bake." He turned the volume down on his music and scooted over to make room. Patting the now empty space with a large sharkish grin. 

Of course Peter had dealt with pot, he went to a college in New York City for christ's sake, but much like alcohol Peter never could get into smoking the stuff. Would Wade be one of those people who were cool if he abstained? The older man had been very kind so far, and Peter did not want to irritate him. 

"Umm" He cleared his throat and tugged on his damp hair "I'm gonna sit this one out if that's cool?" Wade did not even bat an eyelash as he arranged baggies and other assorted paraphernalia, "of course Petey, feel free to do whatever, I'll just be a minute." Peter continued to stand gawkily in the threshold, torn between wanting to walk away and to stay. He settled on staying and daintily scuttled to the bed, sitting half on half off like a cat.

Wade chortled as he cleaned his [pipe ](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_l664a7woy51qcppzzo1_500.jpg)with a napkin "can't resist my boyish charm can you" He spilled the remaining contents onto the bed, which turned out to be more dimebags,  assorted lighters, a paper towel roll with dryer sheets rubber banded on the tip, and a mini bottle of febreze. 

"You can pick a different song, I've heard this one a million times" Wade tossed Peter his phone, which had Spotify opened and set to a premade playlist "pick whatever you like, I'm not picky, but please nothing by Prince, its still too soon man." The blonde then lit up, inhaling so deeply it made Peter's own lungs hurt just watching, before releasing the smoke into the paper towel roll. It did little to cover the smell, but Peter surmised that was what the febreze was for.

Peter had no idea what sort of music was appropriate for smoking, he had only been to one party where pot was involved and it had been a hasty affair in the basement with nervous, giggling first years; relishing their newfound freedom from their families. Not the sort of environment for much pomp and circumstance.  A quick scroll through the playlist really did not amount to much, Wade had a very eclectic taste in music. He hardly recognized any of the bands, so after a hasty game of eenie meenie miney mo he selected a [song ](https://soundcloud.com/iamblackbear/idfc-acoustic)at random. 

_Cause I have hella feelings for you_

_I act like I don't fucking care_

_Like they ain't even there_

_Cause I have hella feelings for you_

_I act like I don't fucking care_

_Cause I'm so fucking scared_

_I'm only a fool for you_...

"Interesting choice, but I can dig it" Wade coughed, billowing smoke with his hand, struggling to dissipate the growing haze.

"I can put on something else" Peter felt so ridiculously shy, like a teenager around their first crush, and it was pissing him off. He had ditched his bumbling persona in his freshman year, deciding that Puny Parker, a victim of so many bullies and ridicule, needed to be put to rest forever. 

"S'coolio, I like the acoustic guitar, makes me feel all zen and chill" Wade emphasized the word 'chill' with a puff of smoke, a poorly made attempt at a ring "fuck, I can totally do it when nobody's looking." Peter snickered, feeling suddenly bold as he stretched out on the bed, setting his now frigid coffee on the nightstand. He winced as the springs once again poked him in the ass "you need a new mattress dude"

It was Wade's turn to snicker, lying next to Peter, yet keeping a respectful distance "I need a new everything in this shithole." Taking one last drag while reclining on his side, Wade then snuffed out the remaining sparks, giving a languid effort to not start a fire. The pipe was then tossed aside, landing on a pile of laundry "touchdown!" He raised his arms in the air, wriggling a victory dance. 

Both men looked up at the ceiling, staring at nothing wile the playlist jumped from track to track, serving as the only noise in the room. The peculiarity of the day was beginning to abate, but Peter still had to wonder what had spurred all of these risk taking decisions. In the course of the last day he had gotten drunk in a shitty bar, attempted to make out with a stranger, went home with said stranger, and was now practically spooning in bed with him. He never would have did these things normally, never in a million years. 

Peter felt way too serene, did he seriously get a contact high from Wade?  Although this was proving to be a good thing, it loosened his tongue and gave him the gumption to finally inquire about his missing hours. 

"Hey Wade" The younger man swallowed the lump in his throat, "why am I here? What went down after I well...went down?" Bracing his body as if he expected to be hit. His bedmate turned towards him, his expression austere, yet soothing. "You puked on me, don't feel bad about that btw shit happens, and you passed out, so Wease called a taxi to get you home. Only we had no fucking clue who you were, so I brought you here." Wade avoided Peter's gaze, looking everywhere but at him.  "...Thank you" Solace flooded Peter's body at the story being told. "I appreciate you doing this for me" Wade reaclimated himself into a comfortable position "you have nothing to thank me for, I was just being a decent person." 

Despite being right next to him, Wade felt far far away. Where had this sudden gulf came from? They had been so close just moments ago "I'm sorry" Anxiety began to build in Peter's chest, making his stomach curdle around the meager sips of coffee he had consumed "I didn't mean to-I'm sorry if I made me you mad, I'm-"

Wade faced him abruptly, grasping the younger man's arm "baby boy you did nothing wrong, I'm the one who should apologize, I shouldn't have just tossed you in the back of a cab and took you home, that was weird and wrong of me." 

There was that mood whiplash again. Wade was weird and wrong for making sure he was safe? The trepidation that had taken over him was now tinged with confusion. "What else would you do? You weren't wrong" yes, it was an unconventional descion, but Peter was not complaining. He was enjoying the man's company, he liked Wade, wanted to get to know him, to help him.

Over the course of their talk, the two of them had gravitated very close to each other, their breaths mingling. Wade's smelling of smoke, and sleep. The blonde slowly reached up, maneuvering his hand from its position on Peter's forearm to cup his flushed cheek, calloused thumb grazing the velvety skin. "Baby boy, I...I was wrong, all I wanted to do was kiss you back, I just wanted to-"

Peter brought his own hand to the back of Wade's neck, bringing him closer, lips fluttering over the other's when he whispered, voice thick with enticement.

"So kiss me."

Wade let out a small, mewling sound "guh..." before he crashed his mouth against Peter's, who gasped at the contact, then moaned as Wade's tongue swiped over his lips; a simple action that attested his will. 

Peter wanted to touch Wade everywhere, feel the body hidden under layers of fabric. The heat growing between them as the brunette slid his palms down Wade's back, to the delicious dip of his spine and the swell of his ass. Peter's other arm, trapped beneath Wade's form itched to caress as well.

Wade left Peter's cheek and seized his shoulder, twisting their joined bodies until Peter lay on top of him. Peter inhaled sharply as their bodies collided, breaking their lips apart, both of them struggling to get enough air. Wade squirmed under Peter's weight, opening his thighs and squeezing them tightly against Peter's hips. The blonde ran his fingers through Peter's soft chestnut hair, pulling him back down. Lips parted and allowing him reentry. The breathy little sighs Wade was making sending bolts of lust straight to Peter's groin. 

Wade's mouth left Peter's and attached to the other man's neck, nuzzling and sucking at the flesh. Teeth and tongue working in tandem, making every cell in Peter's body sing. "Wade,  _fuck_ " He ground his hips down on Wade's, making him cry out roughly. The sensation much stronger since Wade was wearing less clothes. Peter could feel the hardness straining against the thin fabric of Wade's panties, dampness spreading the more Peter rocked against him.

"Peter" he whimpered, mouth ousted from Peter's neck to stare up at him with pleading, clouded eyes "baby boy _**please**_!" The younger man wormed his hand up Wade's oversized hoodie, searching for any trace of bare skin.

' _Bingo_ ' Wicked glee rising in his stomach, Peter brushed the pad of his thumb over Wade's nipple, rubbing and pulling the pliant bud, taking immense pleasure in watching Wade writhe and gnaw on his lower lip.

"Somebody's sensitive" Peter teased gently; kneeling over Wade's trembling body, taking in the sight of him tossing about, gripping the rumpled bedclothes, panting and red faced. "I wonder what would happen if I-" Not giving Wade any time to prepare himself as his other hand was thrust up his hoodie, both of Peter's fingers plying Wade's chest.

The blonde's reaction made Peter's erection ache, he had never been with anyone whose body could feel so much from so little; Wade's small yelps and quiet yowls driving him crazy.

"P-P-Peter" Wade's quivering grew more intense the harder Peter toyed with him, "I'm coming, I'm gonna come!" This was not an exaggeration Peter discovered as Wade's back arched and wetness spread at the crotch of his panties, soaking the cotton.

"Holy shit" The younger man couldn't help but gape at the sight of Wade's flushed face, perspiration causing his hair to stick to his forehead. "You really **are** sensitive aren't you?"

"Oh hardy har" Wade scoffed, regaining some of his strength, just enough to slowly shove Peter on his back, positioning himself over the other man's body "you like to tease don't you?" The mood shifted, and Peter no longer had complete control, it was exhilarating.

"Let's see how much you like it now" Wade's fingers deftly unbuttoning and unfastening the worn jeans, freeing Peter's contained erection. The brunette hissed as the cold air kissed his skin.

"It's your turn baby boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry this is so damn late! My laptop charger shit the bed and I had to save up for a new one (joys of being poor woot woot) I will try to keep the updates a-rolling in! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter, sorry if my smut writing skills are rusty, it has been a while since I've written sex scenes, they will get better I assure you. 
> 
> It has also been awhile since I've smoked, so my memory might be shoddy. I did use to have a unicorn pipe tho. I miss that thing.
> 
> ...I've basically become a nun. No sex, no drugs. Help.


	4. Happiness in slavery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter songs:
> 
> The King's Parade - Gathering The Pieces Of A Broken Heart  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DB4uI7dlhsU
> 
> Wolfie's Just Fine - No Reason At All  
> https://play.spotify.com/album/3hLRQ3P6JmRatB9SfJ9hKL
> 
> Crywank- I am a familiar creek in your floorboards   
> https://crywank.bandcamp.com/track/i-am-a-familiar-creak-in-your-floorboards
> 
> Tw: Sexual content, somewhat rough sex, and brief hints of child abuse (extremely fleeting)
> 
> Thanks again for all of the amazing comments and kudos! I love hearing from you guys, you're the best. Have a tacky elementary school gold star! http://breatheconference.com/home/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/gold_star.j

**_'Its my time to shine baby!'_ **

**_'Finally I was getting bored just sitting here'_ **

**_'Sitting here masturbating?'_ **

**_'Get out this isn't a spiderman meme thread'_ **

**_'We haven't checked Reddit in months, not since we got featured on r/cringe'_ **

**_'Can we get back to the task at hand'_ **

**_'Haha! Hand!'_ **

**_'How was that even a sex joke?'_ **

**_'Hands...Masturbate...?'_ **

**_'Oh my god what are you, twelve?'_ **

**_'Twelve, good age, remember when we were twelve and-'_ **

 

"I'm stopping you there guys" Wade mummered under his breath, voice lost in the noises Peter was making above him. Thank god Peter was a mouthy little fucker in bed or else he might have heard Wade's one sided conversation. The voices in his head were constantly chattering, and over the years the blonde had become a master at ignoring them when he had to.

It was not like the voices were  _bad_ per se, barring the times when they went out of their way to insult or demean him, but Wade knew from experience if he simply let them continue on this subject it would end in disaster. The last thing he wanted was to have a mental breakdown while giving someone a handjob. 

_' **Just because we aren't talking about it doesn't mean you're doing a bad job'**_

**_''Yeah Mr.Sensitive we were just saying that you learned early'_ **

**_'Well not with dicks tho'_ **

"Guys seriously shut it" Wade slowed his hand, causing the brunette to whimper in protest; long, graceful fingers tangling in his filthy blonde hair. He was shaking all over and his cheeks were an adorable shade of apple red. Wade had been playing this game for almost ten minutes now, he would stroke and caress, bringing Peter to the edge and then stop with no warning. While this was proving to be a great time for Wade, Peter was obviously in dire straits.

"You fucker" the brunette was attempting to growl, sound angry, but his voice squeaked and cracked. Wade giggled like a petulant child, gaining way too much satisfaction from torturing Peter this way. "I told you Petey, I'm going to show you its not nice to tease" Wade sat back on his haunches, balancing precariously as the saggy mattress threatened to topple him over. The room was getting _way_ too hot, maybe it was the physical activity making him feel overheated; but either way Wade was starting to sweat, he was feeling dizzy.

_' **You're not gonna!?'**_

**_'Have you lost it?'_ **

**_'Hoe don't do it'_ **

Peter stared at him, annoyance etched on to his features before he realized what Wade was doing. The blonde paused his hands at the hem of his thick cartoon hoodie, struggling to not shake as he lifted the edge up off his stomach and tugged the offending clothing off. Leaving him in nothing but his silly tank top, knee socks, and panties.

**' _Oh my God'_**

Wade heaved harshly through his nose and pushed Peter back down off his elbows, tugging him into a punishing kiss. Silently praying that Peter would just accept his tongue in his mouth and not ask him any questions. It wasn't as if Peter hadn't seen the marks, he got quite the eyeful this morning, but Wade still abhorred the idea of his repulsive skin being on display. He just wanted to get this beautiful man off, he didn't want to think or talk about his mental health or the state of his bodily health. Both of which were piss poor. 

_' **I have no idea what you're talking about'**_

**_'Our health is perfectly fine, hearing voices is all the rage now'_ **

**_'Seriously brah, you know how many fourteen year olds would kill to have us hanging around'_ **

**_'We don't even tell you you're Jesus or anything...We_ did  _tell you that one time you had the magical ability to heal tho'_**

**_'Lawl that was pretty funny when that hot nurse had to reattach your finger'_ **

Peter shuddered as Wade's tongue stud tapped the roof of his mouth, running the course of his hard palate. Comforted that his distraction methods seemed to be working, he nibbled Peter's soft lower lip, biting just enough to draw the slightest amount of blood, making the younger man moan and buck his hips upward, desperate for any source of friction. When their bodies connected, Peter broke away from Wade's lips with a breathless chuckle "you're seriously half hard again?" Peter then slipped his knee between Wade's thighs, rutting against the growing bulge and drawing a low whine from the older man's mouth.

"Oh no you don't baby boy" Wade slid out of Peter's arms and brought himself eye level with the hard cock that he had been neglecting for way too long. "I think I know what will teach you your lesson" Wade scratched and unmatted Peter's coarse pubic hair, wondering just how the hell he managed to make even his pubes attractive, before he gave the head of Peter's erection a tiny lick; grinning widely at the needy sob Peter let out. ' _Kay, i've had my fun'_ Wade brushed his tongue down the entire length, paying special attention to the younger man's balls; he appeared to be pretty sensitive down there Wade noted, deciding that if Peter wanted anything to do with him later on he could use that information. Still, he knew he needed to focus on the present, right now Peter was achingly hard and needed relief. He could worry about potential meetings later. Maybe during post coital cuddling. 

**' _Do you really think after this there is going to be cuddling? When was the last time anyone willingly cuddled you?'_**

Wade paused for a moment, allowing Peter to catch his breath, to come back down from the edge, and took him completely into his mouth.

"Holy fuck!" Peter cursed loudly and grabbed Wade's hair in a trembling grasp, pulling the tangled strands and forcing Wade's head down further. The gagging sound only seemed to drive Peter further up the wall; Wade's nose was crushed against the younger man's stomach, he swallowed thickly as pre come leaked down his gullet. Peter tasted very sweet.

**_'Oh my god is he trying to face fuck us?'_ **

**_'Hell yeah we love that shit!'_ **

**_'Who knew this little twink could be so kinky?'_ **

**_'Kinkytwinky!'_ **

 

Peter wrenched Wade's head up his shaft, then back down again, his grip firm enough to rip out several strands of hair. Wade closed his eyes as he choked, his hand thrusting down to touch himself as Peter fucked his throat. He felt so oddly at peace when he was used like this; it seemed right. It gave him a purpose. He was useful. He was never useful, not to anyone; but when he opened his mouth like this, he could do _something_. 

Wade slackened his jaw so that he could shove even more of Peter's cock down his esophagus, the muscles screaming as they were forced to expand around the intruder. It kind of hurt, Wade couldn't be happier. He palmed his own cock roughly, chasing his own pleasure yet determined to not cum before Peter had; he wanted to do at least one thing right today.

"Wade- _fuck_ -I'm not going to last long if you-" 

The blonde pulled Peter's cock out of his mouth and hurriedly stroked him, panting, his voice even more gravelly from the recent strain.

"It's okay baby boy, come for me."

It did not take long before Peter was pressing his palms to his eyes, legs splayed far apart, yelling out a series of expletives before coming hard over Wade's hand and face. The blonde opened his mouth, taking as much of it as he could as he himself came with a tremble soon after. 

Peter and Wade's jagged breathing filled the room, drowning out any other sound until both men were able to string together complete sentences. Wade had rested his head on Peter's hipbone, his shaking hands tucking Peter back into his jeans. He glanced up at the other hesitantly, wondering dazedly if Peter would be grossed out or turned on by the state of his face right now. Judging from the way Peter's eyes darkened and how swiftly he reached for him, Wade guessed that Peter was more than thrilled at how dirty he was.

The brunette cupped Wade's chin in his palm, examining his handiwork; Peter himself looked rather shy. "Wade...that was pretty damn amazing" he sounded legitimately thankful, which in Wade's eyes was a rather odd emotion to express after a blow job, but he wasn't going to judge. He was however, going to halt the kiss that Peter was now attempting to lay on him. While under normal circumstances Wade would do just about anything for a snuggle and a kiss, he was all sticky. He wanted to wash off.

"Petey, I really hate to eat and run but I'm going to go powder my nose." Wade squeezed Peter's hand, winking as he bounced off the shabby bed; leaving Peter alone while he practically skipped to the bathroom. Who would have guessed that today would turn out so nicely? 

_' **You look like Xtina on an average Monday'**_

**_'Wow when did you get so slut shamey?'_ **

"Yeah dude what gives?" Wade dug through the pile of dirty clothes tossed into the corner, sniffing and sorting until he had a decent enough outfit. He then selected a towel from the meager store he had and cleaned up the mess Peter had gifted him. Splashing water on the already damp floor "You know I hate that kind of talk."

_' **Yeah yeah, excuse me for just being honest'**_

**_'You're being an ass that is what your being'_ **

**_'Speaking of ass, do you think if we hurry back we can take this to tier fifteen?'_ **

"I don't think Petey is the kinda guy who goes up to eleven on the first date" He was all but dancing into the semi-clean [emsem ](http://www.polyvore.com/wade-chapter_four/set?id=199105311)he had picked out, hoping that it flattered him, made him more appealing. "Besides, I really should make sure I'm all clean and fresh before any and all noogie nookie."

Seriously, when was the last time he  _had_ showered? Wade serendipitously sniffed under his arm, not noting any particularly offending odors. Then again, he had read somewhere that once you stop bathing regularly your body just adjusts to it. As long as he did not smell _too_ bad...

Wade cast his gaze up into the small mirror above the sink, and his blithe mood all but vanished. Now he remembered why he rarely looked at himself.

He was so pale and sick looking; the bags under his eyes all the more dark in the fluorescent lights. His hair was a greasy snarled mess, not even the hat he had donned could hide that mess; not only that but his teeth were stained from years of nicotine. The truly sobering part was that this was just what was on the surface, under his clothes was where the horror began.  

The back of his neck prickled, his breath catching in his throat, he was now starkly aware of how sore it was. God, he was so... _wrong_ in every way. How could Peter have bared to touch him? 

The two main voices, Y and W as Wade liked to call them, were lost in the general cacophony as others began to join in on the fun. Reminding him of his every flaw and every fault, removing any traces of happiness that had curled up in his stomach. 

Wade violently tossed his head, shrugging off the painful thoughts as best he could, he had to get out of this bathroom and back to his baby boy. His baby boy would help keep the bad thoughts at bay. They always seemed more distant when he was with someone. It was better than being alone with those bastards. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so not happy with this chapter brah. It just doesn't feel right! My mojo was off big time when it came to writing this week. Work has been super shitty so when I come home all I want to do is watch ASMR videos or watch movies. I just wasn't feeling it. 
> 
> So I'm sorry if the writing is sub-par, it will be better next week. I might (not making any promises) try to get the next chapter out sooner as a "sorry" for this one.
> 
> Also, because I'm basically throwing both Spiderman and Deadpool canon against a wall like spaghetti for this story, some of the stuff I mention might not be one hundred percent clear. As far as Deadpool is concerned I'm taking from his 616 runs as well as Deadpool MAX, which is one of my personal favorites. So if you are familiar with that comic and spotted the MAX reference in the story, congratulations! You read the most depressing Deadpool issues ever.


	5. I want you to want me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter songs:
> 
> Sufjan Stevens - All of me wants all of you  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Se6-q57xJCg
> 
> Daughter-Landfill  
> https://soundcloud.com/ohdaughter/landfill
> 
> Tristen Beer - Promises (I couldn't find an "offical" link to a bandcamp or soundcloud, so here is his FB, give him a listen! He is very talented https://www.facebook.com/Tristenbeermusic/)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3yKPam58LBg
> 
> Otep - We dream like lions  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WD57Zep2_us
> 
> Of Monsters and Men - Organs  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lVyoK6WgRNU
> 
> TW: mentions of self harm and drug use
> 
> Thank you for all of the totally sweet Alabama liquid comments! http://40.media.tumblr.com/43cad39873d4f9b5c146b1ee7fe13ada/tumblr_n0ymftgf7z1smrowmo1_500.jpg

Wade's whole body continued to tremble as he struggled to shake the dark thoughts swimming in his brain. He just had to get back to Peter, he had to get to _someone,_ he couldn't be alone with himself. It was an odd sensation, the idea that he had to restrain his urges, because for once he wasn't alone in this squalid rathole he called home and he couldn't just rip into himself like a raw steak. He had to actually think of someone else, and while thinking of others was not one of Wade's strong suits, he could give it a try for once. 

_'Speaking of others'_

Peter appeared to be on the phone, judging from how softly he was speaking, and the conversation was taking place with someone named Harry, whoever that was. 

Wade instantly felt jealousy bubble like acid on his gut, who the hell was  _Harry_ and why was Peter talking so pretty at him? Had Peter cheated on Harry with him? It wouldn't be the first time Wade was the slut on the side...

"Yeah Harry I'm fine, tell MJ not to worry, I'll be back today...No, no, I'm fine, really...Just tell everyone to go to class and to not stress...Don't mess the room up too bad while I'm gone." A small laugh and Peter hung up with a barely audible sigh, muttering to himself "He better not eat my mac and cheese." A pause "or bring Gwen over."

_'Oh'_

Harry must be his roommate. So he had panicked over nothing. 

_**'Well you're not exactly the brightest bulb in the box, it isn't surprising you jumped to conclusions'** _

Wade cautiously entered the room, where Peter lay sprawled out on the bed; looking scruffy and cute and way out of his league. "Hey" The blonde practically choked on his words, all confidence at being in Peter's presence gone. How could he have forgotten what he looks like? What he smells like? He was horrific, he was abhorrent. 

"Hey yourself" Peter looked up immediately when he heard him, grinning at Wade's form, patting the empty space in the bed to beckon him. "I was getting lonely waiting for you, totally worth the wait though you look beautiful." At first Wade felt a flash of anger, not appreciating being belittled in his own home, but the look Peter was giving him, eyes roaming over his body with an almost hungry expression; maybe Peter was attracted to him after all. Stranger things have happened. 

Wade still kept his distance, this was usually when the brushing-off happened, and while he had grown to simply accept that, it still hurt.

"Well c'mon" Peter teased as he turned over, resting his palm in his hand "we need to talk," 

_'Oh God'_

'We need to talk' was never good. 

The blonde threw himself belly first on the bed bedside Peter, still keeping a wide berth, preparing to run if things went sour. Of course he couldn't be kicked out of his own apartment, but in this position he could easily bolt when Peter got to the part of this song and dance where he rejected him.  

"Wade...Listen...I've, I'm not the type to do one night stands" Was this kid blushing? Blushing over what, sleeping with Wade? Didn't Peter get the memo that he would spread his legs for pretty much anyone who promised to be there in the morning? 

_**'Poor kid doesn't know any better, isn't that obvi?'** _

_**'He doesn't know how many dicks have been in your mouth'** _

"I don't know what happened, I just know that you're so...different, from everyone I've ever met, I want to get to know you"

_**'There isn't anything worth knowing'** _

_**'Poor poor baby boy, he probably feels obligated  since you gave him a place to crash'** _

The idea that Peter "owed him" made Wade's blood run cold, is that why Peter had touched him? Because he wanted to pay him back for his basic decency? He felt sick.

"Peter" Wade's voice cut through the conversation quite clearly, he was shaking all over, was he about to have a panic attack? God he hoped not. "Listen, you don't have ta' hang around, you don't have ta' repay me, you-"

The younger man grabbed Wade's arm, and looking down he realized he had been digging his fingernails deep into his flannel-covered flesh. "I know you're younger than me and you think that this is how its done, but really you can leave at any time! I can give you money for the subway, n-not that I want you to leave or I'm kicking you out like 'thanks for the sex peace out' cuz I'm not but-"

"Wade!" Peter tightened his hold on Wade's arm, desperate to break the cycle of self-deprecation "please Wade, I don't feel that way at all, I just want to get to know the guy who looked after me, wasn't a creep, and gave me amazing head, is that so odd?"

' ** _Yes_** '

Wade looked away, he couldn't deal with this kid, he was putting way too much value on him, it was giving him butterflies. When was the last time someone had wanted to know him? To not treat him like a mastubatory aid? 

_**'Picture it, Sicily, 1938'** _

"And" Peter's eyes dropped back to Wade's arms, crossed under his chin and hidden in layers of fabric; scars out of sight, scars out of mind. "I want to...help you"

**_'HahahahaHAHAHAHA'_ **

  
Wade blenched in pain as the voices reached deafening levels of discord. He was hearing so many today, alongside Y and W there were at least four more. As long as he didn't hear Red he would continue to count his blessings. Red frightened him, he told him to hurt others, while Y and W told him to hurt himself.

Frankly he didn't know which was worse.

"Kay" Wade rolled over on his back, staring at Peter, doubt etched into his features. "You want to get to know the real me? Down beneath the sexy and the muscles and the perfect bone structure, you're gonna get it."

Peter jostled until he was laying beside Wade, taking a shy hold of his hand "there will be rules."

"Do we get to pick our own safewords? Mine's 'do it again.'"

The younger man snorted, bumping Wade's shoulder, "be serious Wade, okay, I'm going to ask you some basic questions, nothing heavy."

Wade squirmed where he lay, the panic that had clouded his brain still clutching on him like an infected hangnail. He had to keep himself focused, this was crucial; he didn't want to lose Peter because of something stupid that he said. Too many of his friendships had been flushed down the drain because of his mouth. 

Peter cleared his throat "Kay...Full name?"

"Wade Winston Wilson."

A quirked eyebrow gave the impression that Peter did not believe him. "Hand to god baby boy, that is it!"   
Peter's face softened, breaking out into an enthralling smile that made Wade's heart thump. How could he be falling so fast for someone he hardly knew? 

_**'You're just that desperate'** _

_**'This isn't the first time'** _

_**'Remember Theresa'?** _

Peter tightened his hold on Wade's hand, as if he sensed Wade's trepidation "Pleased to meet you Wade Winston Wilson, might I ask your age?"

The blonde clapped his free hand to his cheek, mock horror flooding his semblance "ex-CUSE me sir you _never_ ask a lady her age!" 

His shoddy attempt at humor only earned him another thwack, "yikes, you play rugby? Shit hurts mang" Wade exhaled, grumbling so lowly Peter had to strain to hear him. "I'm twenty five, happy now?" 

Wade ceased all griping when he felt a pithy kiss pressed against his cheek "Very, so far you're Wade Wilson, you're twenty five...where did you go to school?"

_**'whoomp there it is'** _

"Umm" Wade struggled to find the correct words, Peter was obviously an intelligent young man, he wouldn't want to be saddled with an idiot "I...fuck it, I dropped out, never even got my GED." He was expecting harsh judgement, maybe a dash of pity, but not for Peter to simply shrug, and say "alright, fair enough." He then released Wade's hand to tuck his arms behind his head. "Well, I'm Peter Benjamin Parker, I'm twenty two, and I'm going to Empire State University, where I'm studying photography." 

Empire State was not an easy school to get into, Wade was impressed. "My only experience with ESU was a crappy party in the dorms I crashed." Peter chuckled, looking rather bemused "I wouldn't know about all that, I'm not exactly a party animal" an inquisitive expression dawned on his face "I actually don't even know what came over me last night, I _never_ drink, I guess I just wanted to get away, away from the stress, away from the expectations, just get away from life y'know?"

Wade could understand that, he wanted to get away from every moment of his existence. 

Neither man was eager to continue on with this dark topic, so Wade quickly changed the subject. "What kind of photography do you do?" The blonde would never admit his interest in art to anyone, he has a reputation to uphold. Granted, that reputation was that he was vacuous and carefree, but a rep was a rep. 

"Analog, especially conceptual photography" A brief, sheepish pause "...I, um, I actually have my portfolio with me if you, y'know, maybe want to look?" 

Wade didn't know anything about photography. He knew that in the nineteenth century you took pictures of dead people. He also knew that you really don't shake polaroids, and that the vitriol selfies get are ridiculous, but that was where his train of thought docked at the station. 

  
"I would love to look at ya pics Petey!" At the sound of Wade's genuine enthusiasm, Peter practically lept from the mattress and bolted for his bag "I'll get it right now!"

While Peter dug through his pack, Wade took the opportunity to duck out for a smoke; he had not had one since early that morning, he was dying. 

Opening the window, he half-crawled out the window to dangle his feet onto the [fire escape](https://notmanhattan.files.wordpress.com/2010/03/dsc_0239.jpg) just within his grasp. It was nothing more than a rusted, rickety bit of metal, and Wade was more than a smidge disinclined to put his full weight on it, but the junky piece of crap made a great impromptu balcony. He had smoked many a cigarette, packed many a bowl, and guzzled way too much coffee and booze on this damn thing; needless to say he was attached. 

Wade had also wasted many an hour staring out into the world, the world that all at once seemed terrifying and seductive. Seductive, because he couldn't be a part of it, in spite of the desire. Terrifying, because at one point he was a part of it, and all he received in turn were scars and blood and an unwavering addiction to any and all recreational drugs. The city was a lot easier to live in when you could observe, and not join. There was very little chance of being hurt that way. 

It didn't make life better, just bearable. 

Although he was thrilled to have company (the voices were right, he was desperate) solitude had become his norm, and he wanted a moment alone. Glancing behind him to ensure Peter was still occupied and he wasn't being rude, Wade yanked his headphones out of his pocket, plugging his ears and drowning out the noise, both outside his body and within his mind. 

The roar of the [music ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WD57Zep2_us)didn't make the voices go away, but it made them bearable. 

'Bearable' seemed to be his quality of life.

  


_The dark poles of the weeping trees_

  


_Cradle him close in the heavy breeze_

  
_Crumbs for the crows slow empire of worms we sing the_

  
_Cry of countless broken souls_

  
_"the world is made of razor blade, they choke on the words they'll never say_

  
_I wish it could change but it will always be this way"_  
  


 "..Ade, Wade!" The blonde nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand grabbed his shoulder, inhaling more smoke than even his ruined lungs could handle. "I'm sorry! I didn't know you had earbuds in." 

So his mystery assailant was Peter, of course, who else would be in his apartment?

Well, there was Al, but he almost always went to her place, rarely letting her into his. She was blind, but extremely perceptive. Her years as a nurse in the army had honed her skills at detecting injury. More than once she had casually mentioned to him that she knew what blood smelled like. 

It was way too awkward. 

"It's fine baby boy, my bad" Wade struggled to regulate his breathing, his still sore throat torn raw by the coughing and choking. "Did you find your porto-folly thingy?" 

He indeed had, if the thick three-ring binder under his arm was any indication, but that wasn't what got Wade's attention. In his hand Peter held a single photo, the edges crisp and frayed. 

_'Oh shit'_

Wade attempted to bury the rage growing in his chest, but still he tremored as he reached out, snatching the polaroid from Peter's loose grasp. "You've got some nerve Peter." Had this been anyone else, he might have snapped and threw them out. Peter should thank his lucky stars he was essentially stranded here and Wade's conscience, as indignant as he was, wouldn't allow him to toss Peter out when he had no way of getting home. 

"I'm sorry Wade, I was getting my bag and I saw a pile of photos in the corner..." His voice trailed off, as if he knew he couldn't put a positive spin on intruding Wade's privacy. 

The older man shook his head, teeth still grinding with animosity, finally looking at which picture he had grabbed. 

The voices' laughter was like nails on a chalkboard, loving Wade's misery. The picture was of him and Nate; he recognized the wallpaper and the table settings, it was the photo Nate's friends Neena took the night he proposed to Wade. 

_'Of mother fucking course'_

"Wade...?" Peter sounded distressed, he must be thinking the worst. 

Wade just couldn't bring himself to respond, so he drug his feet over to his bed and collapsed face down in the sheets. They smelled of smoke, sweat, and recent sex. he would have to change them soon.

And by "change them" he meant going to the laundry room in the basement and stealing someone else's bedding.

"God dammit it Priscila" Wade mumbled under his breath, still staring at the photograph in his hand. He thought he had burned every and any trace of Nathan from his life. He had spent a whole drunken weekend throwing out every gift, ripping apart any clothing, and incinerating every photograph. Seeing this reminder was just another failure in an invariable laundry list of fuck ups. Even in his intoxicated state he must have known that destroying this photograph would have been too painful.

"Was-was this guy someone you knew?" Peter had sat himself cautiously beside Wade, keeping a respectable distance. He must know he was treading on dangerous ground.

"Nathan was...he was my boyfriend" Wade spat out the last word as if it were poison, or very acerbic.

"...Oh" Peter said, as if he was expecting a different answer. It made sense, Nate was older than him, hair graying and laugh lines crinkling the corners of his eyes; not only that, but Nate, in his black sweater and carefully combed hair, looked so different from Wade, in his dirty torn clothes and raffish tresses.  

Wade rolled onto his back, reaching over the edge of the bed to fumble around for the bottle of vodka he kept there at all times. He never knew when he would need a drink; his sleep was so troubled and nightmare ridden that it seemed like the best idea. 

If Peter was surprised by the booze, he didn't show it, he just continued to sit, waiting patiently for Wade to imbibe the drink and get back to his story. 

Wade screwed his face up as the room temperature alcohol slid down his gullet. God, warm vodka was nasty, but it was better than talking about Nate completely sober. Granted, there was nowhere near enough in this bottle to get him drunk, he still liked how the absolut blurred the edges of his vision.  

"Nate was gonna go places, he had all these dreams of making the world a better place." Wade chuckled rancorously, the love he once felt had withered and transformed into a deep bitterness. "He even spent time in fucking Africa building houses for people, who the fuck does that?" Peter slid down beside Wade, once again taking hold of his hand. Giving the blonde as much comfort as he could offer.

"Why did you guys...break up?"

 

_"Wade you told me you stopped doing this!" Nate rarely got angry at him, not like this, but Wade knew he had fucked up. He was screwed. He watched as Nate ran his large rough hands through his silvery hair, eyes boring holes into his skin. He saw no love in those eyes, not anymore.  "Excuse me Priscila why are you going through my shit?" He was speaking with a heat he did not feel, he felt cold;  all of his sins were laid out in front of him on the filthy carpet, dirty razors, used needles, burned bent spoons. He could not lie any longer, there was no hiding behind a guise of wellness. He had been exposed._

_Wade was a liar._

_"Wade I can't do this anymore, I just can't" Oh God was Nathan crying? Wade's guts clenched like a fist, guilt and shame burning him alive from the inside out. He had hidden all of these things from Nate for so long, after awhile it just felt natural. He was doing it to protect him. Nate didn't need to worry about him anymore than he already did._

_At least, that is what Wade told himself. In reality it was selfishness that spurred him into hiding his vices. He wanted the metaphorical cake, he wanted to be loved without changing._

_Wade was a liar._

_"I...I didn't use any of it, I was just-" Was that his voice? He sounded so fucking scared, he hardly recognized the sound of it. He just wanted to hide these horrible implements of his own self-torture, he never wanted Nate to see how destroyed he truly was. He wanted to go back to how it was only a day ago. He wanted to hold Nathan in his arms and give him the love he deserved._

_Yet he knew that Nate would not accept his hands on him, Wade was not the man Nathan had believed him to be. Wade had looked Nate in the eyes and lied to him. Nathan, the man who held him, kissed him, fucked him. Nathan, the man who saw his scars and kissed them, told him how beautiful he was. Who only showed him love, never disgust._

_Wade was a liar._

_"Don't Wade, just don't!" Nate began pacing the course of the cramped living room, his large form casting shadows on the walls. The room was dark, the sun beginning to set, yet neither one had bothered to turn on a lamp. The television provided enough light to make out basic shapes. They had been watching some sort of documentary on tigers._

_Wade could talk his way out of anything, how may emergency rooms had he walked out of over the years? How many lies had fallen from his tongue? How many times did he lie to himself?_

_"You need help Wade, you need to-I just-I" A deafening crash as Nathan put his fist through the rough plaster of his wall. Wade didn't care, didn't look up from the floor, the hole was Al's problem, not his. Truth be told he didn't care about much of anything, he felt so oddly disconnected from his body, as if he were watching this whole event from the ceiling._

_"Nate...Priscilla" At the sound of Wade's odd pet name for him, Nate let out a strangled noise halfway between a sob and a furious growl. "Please Nate, come here, we can talk about this tomorrow." There never would be a tomorrow, both men knew that; Wade always swore that they would talk about things tomorrow, and then he would drag Nate to the bedroom. The subject would be forgotten, or set aside._

_Wade was a liar._

_How many times had Wade kissed Nate goodbye in the morning, kissed him with sincere affection; only to wind up on his knees in front of someone else, doing the only thing he could do because he had no money to actually pay for the drugs. How many times had he came home, brushed his teeth, gargled with listerine, and hopped into Nate's bed to kiss him again with the same lips. As if he weren't a disgusting druggie whore._

_Wade was a liar._

_Nate had begun to throw what meager belongings he had over at Wade's place into a shopping bag. He was still muttering, pressing a hand to his mouth to stifle any sobs leaking through. Wade knew it was over, despite Nate's promise that this day would never come. The silver band on Wade's finger was a symbol of that. Nate had removed his own ring and set it in the coffee table. Seeing the jewelry there only compounded the truth._

_It was over._

_Nate was leaving._

_Wade was being abandoned again._

_Wade had two predisposed responses to overwhelming pain. He would curl inside himself, holding his heart in his hands to protect it from further battering. Preserving the tattered remains the best he could._

_Or he would lash out, spewing venom and snapping bones with his words. Much like how an animal in a trap will bite and snarl at any attempts at help; and the people Wade loved would always be the ones to suffer._

_Wade chose the latter._

_If there was anything more Wade hated then himself, it was his friends._

_He couldn't remember what he said. he knew that he yelled and Nate yelled back. He knew he punched Nate in the jaw. He knew that their were bottles thrown and cops called. He knew that soon after he was outside in the frigid January night; he wore no coat or shoes. He ran for what felt like an eternity. He ran over slick ice and broken glass. He eventually collapsed in front of a rusted wire fence barring entrance to a small polluted pond. Someone had fallen through the ice and had drowned there earlier in the month._

_He gripped the twisted bits of wire, barbs slicing through pads and palm, blood sliding down his wrist over fresh wounds and old scars._

_His breath came in heavy, desperate gusts. His heart small and sick in his chest. There was nobody around for miles, or if there was, nobody came when he tilted his head back and screamed himself raw into the night sky devoid of stars._

 

"Irreconcilable differences."  

Wade polished off the remaining dregs of room temperature alcohol, tossing the bottle haphazardly to his left and feeling a strange sense of satisfaction when the heavy glass dented the wall. The bottle did not crack however, not that Wade would bother cleaning it up, he could care less if he stepped on broken glass. His place was such a disgusting mess what was one more pile of refuse? Hell would freeze over before he would pick up a broom, he was going to die in his filth like the Collyer brothers. 

"So...That is it then? You just couldn't work things out?" Peter was so naive, it was adorable, if not slightly disturbing.

"It wasn't that simple baby boy" Nothing in Wade's life was simple, of course it was his own damn fault, but Peter didn't need to know that.

The blonde sighed and dropped the photo to the floor, his fingers twitching and his skin burned with the desire to split it open. Usually such a wonderful trip down memory lane would end with Wade holed up in his bathroom for an hour or so; just himself, an ice bath, a bottle of whiskey, a vial of klonopin, and a packet of razor blades.  

A cigarette would have to do. He never did get to finish his first one.  

Peter followed Wade back to the window ledge, hanging back to avoid smoke inhalation but close enough to show his support. Neither of them knew what to say, Wade could see the younger man felt horrid for invading his privacy, especially since they had just began to get to know each other; yet to be honest Wade was grateful, he despised his memories but talking about Nate reminded him of why he was, a year and a half later, still alone.

He couldn't subject anyone to his life.

How could he had forgotten? Had he just let the desire blind him? He wanted Peter, wanted him badly. The moment Peter wrapped his twiggy little arms around him, called him pretty and tried to kiss him, Wade knew he was going to fall in love. Was he even feeling love? Was this weightless roller coaster sensation in his stomach love? It wouldn't surprise him, he fell in love with people for the simplest of reasons, usually just the slightest bit of attention would have Wade chasing after someone.

  
Over the years Wade had amassed a startlingly large collection of fucked up relationships. He had had his heart broken, shattered, ripped from his chest, stepped on, and stabbed. Wade would always cry himself to sleep, placating his wounded soul that every relationship was the last one, he couldn't survive any more misery. Less than a month after that he would be sniffing after someone else like a puppy. 

He was clingy and lonely and hated himself for it.

Wade wanted to love, wanted to have something to look forward to, other than this mind numbing bullshit he called an existence.

He just wasn't meant to have anyone in his life. 

Wade would get Peter home, he would pay for a nice taxi, a clean one with a driver that didn't have a DUI on his record, and Peter would have the memory of their one night stand to jerk off to later. He would even let Peter keep the clothes, judging from what he had worn last night the kid could use a makeover.

  
Wade pretended he was okay with this.

Then Wade would go back to his "life" of watching television, drinking and eating himself sick, and staring off into space with no one to talk to except the endless prattling of the voices in his head. 

  
Wade pretended he was okay with this. 

The blonde snuffed his cigarette out on the ledge, wondering just when the hell he became so soft. Why did he feel so weak for this nerdy college boy? Wade had no problem pushing people away, he was the reigning champ of ruining any and all chances he had of happiness. Would he even find happiness with Peter? 

Who the fuck knew.

"Petey, you see the bag over in the corner? Yeah, the unicorn one, I have like seventy some odd dollars in there, that should be enough to get you home, I'll call a taxi for ya'." Wade swung his legs over the window ledge and avoided Peter's gaze "this has been great, really, you're a good kid, don't forget that."

Most people were relieved when they no longer had to deal with him, they would thank whatever God they believed in and run away as fast as possible. Anyone with half a brain could see Wade wasn't worth the trouble, was not worth the effort. Peter was either the kindest soul he had ever met or just very, very stupid to still want him. 

"Wade I'm sorry, please don't be mad, I didn't mean to pry-" The blonde cut him off before he could finish, he wanted Peter to go knowing this wasn't his fault.

"Baby boy it isn't 'bout that anymore, its about me" Wade gestured down at himself, from the top of his hat covered head to his bare feet with the chipped red polish decorating his toes; "I'm-I'm just going to drag you down." He held up his hands to halt whatever Peter had been about to say "you said you wanted to know me, and I told you everything positive that I could, its all down hill from here baby."

"You didn't tell me anything about yourself" Peter muttered, expression hardening into something like indignation "I'm not a kid Wade, I'm an adult, I'm only  _three years younger than you_ dammit, I can decide for myself if you're worth it or not." Peter reached out and grasped Wade's jaw, tracing his lower lip with his thumb while he leaned in close, his nose brushing against the older man's pulse point "and from what this mouth of yours has done for me so far, I say you're _very_ worth it."

Wade's heart jack hammered in his chest, he had received more genuine compliments in the last day that he had in years. He felt pretty, desirable, especially when Peter's hand began to rub his upper thigh, nudging his legs apart so he could step between them, to press their bodies together. "You have the most incredible legs I have ever seen" the gentle massage turned into a more forceful caress "the next time I see you I hope you're in leggins."

Thank God Peter's head was currently nuzzling and kissing his neck, he wouldn't see the blush currently splashed across his cheeks. "Y-you,  _guh_ , really wanna see me again?" 

The younger man raked his teeth across Wade's skin one last time before staring at him incredulously "I don't get you man" there were equal parts annoyance and mirth in his tone, "one minute your a-okay with me trying to get to know you, then you pull a Frozen queen Elsa and go on pushing me away, and now you're back to okay?" Peter shook his head, as if to try and gather his thoughts. "I like you Wade, I really do, but please let me know now what you want, my last relationship was the fucking Hindenburg, I don't feel like going through that again." 

Wade could understand that.

"I-I do, I do wanna see you again" He had to speak now, before the regret and panic set in "but baby boy, this whole shitty relationship gig goes both ways, just...please don't fuck me over too hard." 

Peter's arms wrapped around Wade's shoulders, holding him close, "Wade, I can't promise that this is going to be an epic romance and that we'll be together forever, but I swear I won't hurt you."

The blonde couldn't help but smile, his own hands resting on Peter's slim back "so no matching tattoos yet? Can I at least write your name on my school books with a heart around them?" 

The kiss Peter pressed against his lips was sweeter than any he could remember receiving. 

"Now" The brunette grinned playfully at him, "about that taxi." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gee willikers this chapter is later than a teen girl's period after prom night. 
> 
> But the good news is that I no longer have my crappy bakery job so updates will be MUCH more frequent!
> 
> Keep in mind that Nate WILL be in the story! This will not be his sole appearance, how could I exclude Deadpool's husbando!? That and I'm Cablepool trash so any and all excuses to put those two together. 
> 
> For those who are wondering, Wade in the comics has had two main boxes, white (madcap) and yellow. In "Deadpool Kills The Marvel Universe" he had the red caption box  
> http://cdn.bloody-disgusting.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/deadpoolkills13.jpeg  
> that encouraged him to go out and well...kill everyone. Obviously that comic is not canon but I put it in the story anyway, just because I love those comics. 
> 
> Moreover, I'm using "voices" plural, to describe Wade's auditory hallucinations, although his mental health varies from writer to writer, something I've noticed is that, aside from the boxes, Wade appears to suffer from some form of auditory hallucinations. 
> 
> Example one: https://65.media.tumblr.com/8798b7cf19a33479051c13327efd789c/tumblr_inline_mwy7uwo9WQ1qeimwq.png
> 
> Example two:  
> http://images-cdn.moviepilot.com/images/c_fill,h_320,w_669/t_mp_quality/kuktcx3rmyhxah6fk6pi/how-ryan-reynolds-unique-talent-brings-the-character-deadpool-to-life-412627.jpg
> 
> Example three:  
> http://67.media.tumblr.com/c8058610c82d17ce8d4360807c614566/tumblr_o5xrue7ITw1ry01upo1_500.png
> 
> Also I'm a dumdum and deleted the last chapter (the hiatus notice I put up) so the sweet reviews I received went with it.
> 
> For everyone who's comments were deleted I am so sorry! Please know that I appreciate them so much and they are hanging on the fridge of my heart.
> 
> Because I'm so original I stole dialogue from the Spiderman/Deadpool comic https://67.media.tumblr.com/a6f5ad4b211fce7bdc34e3ac018bcdbe/tumblr_o3rkem04Ui1ry01upo1_540.png so if you noticed or recognized those lines that is where they came from. 
> 
> Don't sue me Marvel all I have is a half dead cactus and like, thirty bucks in my bank account, and I'm not loosing my cactus.


	6. I don't want it, I just need it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter songs:
> 
> Puscifer - The Humbling River  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V4WH2EBRqvg
> 
> Crywank- It's OK, I Wouldn't Remember Me Either  
> http://crywank.bandcamp.com/track/its-ok-i-wouldnt-remember-me-either
> 
> Keaton Henson - Flesh And Bone  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jAqp9MtRFNo
> 
> Nicole Dollanganger- Lividity  
> http://nicoledollanganger.bandcamp.com/track/lividity
> 
> Maria Mena- Not Sober  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ANuGp5xKI8o
> 
> TW: Graphic depictions of self-harm. Implied, semi-graphic rape/non-con. Mentions of child abuse. Heavy drug use. Suicidal ideation. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for continuing to support me and this story, I can't believe how well it is being received! Cheers to a bright future with many more chapters to come.

The Past

 

_Wade is five years old and struggling to keep up with his mother. His short legs cannot match her longer stride, and it is an extreme effort to not lose her in the crowd. She had not wanted to bring him along at all, she wanted to go to the corner store and buy cigarettes but his father is at work and Wade is too little to be left home alone. When he had latched onto her shirt sleeve, crying and begging her to stay, she had yelled for him to get off and shoved him away, telling him to go to his room. But Wade continued to cry and told her he was scared. Convinced that if she left, something bad would happen to him._

_So there he was on the busy sidewalk, people bustling, because that is what people do in cities, they bustle; and he struggles to keep sight of her. She hasn't turned to see if he is still following her, and she refused to pick him up or hold his hand so he wouldn't get lost. "You're not a cripple, you can walk dammit!" Wade is still too small to be seen by most people, and he is constantly getting bumped into or knocked over. Sometimes the person apologizes, sometimes he is called a stupid kid and told to stay out of the way._

_Wade knows which woman is his mother in the crowd, because she is the one with the beautiful hair, golden and shining in the sun. It always made him happy when someone said he had hair like his mommy's. She never agreed, and seemed to take it as an insult, telling him that if he looked like anyone, it was his father. "If you looked like me you'd be a lot cuter." Wade knew he wasn't cute, but he still liked hearing it._

_So far he had been doing a good job keeping up with her, he hadn't lost her in the crowd and every so often he would reach out to touch her hand, letting her know that he was there, that way she didn't have to worry about him._

_What separated them was the crosswalk, his mother had crossed and Wade had been left behind, the screaming of tires on hot asphalt stopping him cold where he stood. He was told in school that you never cross the street without looking both ways, but now he could hardly see his mother and he didn't know what to do. He hopped from foot to foot, silently begging for the light to change so he could go and catch up._

_When the light finally changed, she was gone._

_And Wade was scared._

_He couldn't see her anywhere, had no idea where she went. He was torn between running forward and maybe seeing her up ahead, or maybe just turning around and going home. But where was home? He knew his address, he had it memorized. One of his school assignments had been to learn your address and phone number in case of an emergency, was this an emergency?_

_His teacher had told him and the rest of the class, while they sat on the rug in the middle of the floor decorated with smiling suns and yawning moons, that if you are ever lost to find a police officer and they will help you._

_He wasn't supposed to talk to anyone, his mother had twisted his wrist until he swore he would stay quiet and out of the way. Would it be okay to talk to a police officer? Should he stay here and wait?_

_He was confused, and people kept bumping into him and he didn't know what to do. Before he knew it, tears were running down his cheeks and he was a crying mess on the sidewalk. He pulled his knees to his forehead and tried to keep quiet. He had been told that crying was for babies and he wasn't a baby anymore. He was old enough to handle problems without throwing a temper tantrum. Whenever he cried at home, it made daddy angry and mommy annoyed and they never paid attention to it, they ignored him until he stopped._

_But he couldn't stop._

_He didn't know how long he sat on the sidewalk like that, curled into a little ball missing his mom and wanting to be picked up or given a hug. He knew neither of those things would happen, his mother never touched him unless she had to and his daddy seemed content to pretend Wade didn't exist until he was angry, then Wade had to hide from him._

_What dragged him out of his misery was a shadow cast over him, he looked up and saw a small, pretty hand with bright blue polish decorating the nails. His mother's hand._

_"God dammit Wade I knew I should have left your sorry ass at home." She is still grumbling angrily as she grabs his arm and takes a hold of his hand._

_She doesn't let go until they reach the corner store. Wade waits outside like he is told, and when she comes back to him, cigarette lit between her lips, she reaches for his hand again._

_She doesn't let go until they are home._

 

The Present

 

Wade has been sitting cross legged on his bed, staring down at the phone resting in his lap, for quite some time now. Droplets of water ran down his neck, tracing the length of his back like fingertips, making him shiver. The lingering summer heat was quickly being chased away by autumn chill, soon he would not look like a freak of nature for his wardrobe of long sleeves, jackets, and sweaters. The sheets under him were his own, freshly washed and smelling of botanicals Wade couldn't pronounce. In a brazen show of what a good citizen he is, he had not stolen some helpless tenants laundry form their untenanted dryer.

The cigarettes he had been chain smoking since four this morning however, had been snagged off of a table on the back patio.

He was an opportunist above everything else, and if one of his neighbors were dumb enough to leave cigarettes laying about, excuse him for taking advantage. It made the constant cycle of smoke and ash much easier. It wasn't his money he was wasting, so what the hell? This was proving to be a good test of how well his lungs were functioning. Was it a pass or a fail if he had not even so much as gagged over the last six hours?

He had no idea.

 _'I should put pants on'_ He had showered over an hour ago, but lacked the energy to get up and dress himself. While normally that wouldn't pose much of a problem, he was expecting company, and he had a feeling greeting his guest naked as a newborn wouldn't be much of a boon for him.

Truth be told Wade was genuinely surprised that had managed laundry _and_ a shower. Most days Wade considered it a minor victory if he got out of bed before mid afternoon. Even going to Weasel's place has been ridiculously overwhelming as of late. He usually only went if he was short on money that month and could not afford to restock his fridge with the booze he so desperately needed. There were always weird older guys willing to pay for his drinks. He had a regular supply of sad old alcoholics who happily supplied him with as much booze as he could handle. Of course they usually tapped out after ten drinks, and Wade would have to produce the funds for the remainder of what he needed. Wade hit a good buzz at around eighteen, although he usually drank more than that, if he wasn't on the verge of blacking out, then he wasn't content. But even drunk Wade had the keen ability to sense imminent danger; sometimes those creepy old drunks got handsy and Wade would be forced to break a nose or two.

There were always three more to replace one who stepped out of line.

Most of them were just fine however, they never got out of line with him, and Wade enjoyed their company. They viewed Wade as a drinking buddy and nothing more. It was quite the symbiotic relationship, Wade got the alcohol, they got someone to talk to. Wade would never admit it, but he liked the conversation just as much. Other than Weasel (who was forced to deal with him) and Al (also a forced relationship, since Wade rented his apartment from her) Wade had no other friends.

The loud banging at his front door however, reminded him that he had one other person in his life, although Wade was reluctant to call him a 'friend.'

"Hang on a minute!" Wade yelled as he struggled into a pair of [shorts ](http://www.polyvore.com/wade-chapter_six/set?id=201928934)and a shirt. If it were anyone else he would have worn more; covered up the scars and the cuts dotting his forearms, some of which were still sluggishly bleeding. However the blonde knew that the man at the door could care less what he looked like. Wade's mental health, or lack thereof, was no concern of his.

And of course the asshole continued to knock.

"For the love of fuck what did I just say!" He was flipping through his Spotify, trying to find some sort of loud music, so the neighbors wouldn't hear what the two of them were going to do; they had young children, Wade didn't want to frighten them, make life any worse than it might already be.

"Knock one more time motherfucker see what happens" Cranking the [volume ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V4WH2EBRqvg)up on his phone he tossed it on his bed, smoothing out his rumpled clothes before padding to the door, standing still for a moment, allowing his guest to keep rudely demanding entry.

"What's the password?" Wade could tell the other man was getting annoyed by the way the knocking decreased in frequency, but increased in forcefulness. "A hint, it is my favorite episode of Legends of the hidden temple."

  
Now he was kicking the door, what a charmer.

 

"The answer was The Much-Heralded Helmet of Sir Gawain but I'll let you in anyway."

Wade had barely cracked open the door before he was being shoved aside, "alright, nice to see you to Mr. Freeman, Ajax, _Francis."_

Ajax glared back at him, the blue of his eyes reminiscent of glaciers floating in frigid water. He was the truly the coldest soul Wade had ever met; and Wade had met some truly despicable people in his short life. Ajax had, on more than one occasion, done things that even Wade couldn't allow. The most recent being the other man breaking into his neighbor's apartment to steal the battery to their wheelchair. They were forced to pay quite a lot to have it back.

When Wade caught wind of that little stunt, he had pinned Ajax's hand under his boot, practically crushing the bones until Francis swore he would never do something like that again.

  
Taking smokes or bed sheets was one thing, but Wade would not permit something so vile on his turf.

"What took you so long fuck face?" The other man ran his hands over his shaved head, exasperated already from spending less than five minutes with Wade; and until Wade got what Ajax had in his bag, he would continue to be a "fuck face."

"I had to rub one out" Wade made an obscene gesture with his hand, to emphasize the point "it was pretty spectacular, we are talking terminal velocity, I could have lost an eye."

"'Kay, so why are you dressed like a whore? Do you like to dance in front of the mirror to feel pretty, it get your motor running?" The tension was beginning to dissipate like water down a drain. This was the territory the two men were familiar with, pushing each other's buttons and busting each other's balls.

"I would do me, _hard."_

All that reference received was an unceremonious shove toward the bedroom, "come on blondie some of us actually have lives and can't fuck around all day." Ajax kicked aside some empty alcohol bottles, Chinese food containers, and crumpled cigarette packs with a scowl twisting his lips. He was discernibly repulsed, despite being well acquainted with Wade and his less-than-hygienic standard of living.

"Al still hasn't kicked you out, look at this shit" he scooped up a translucent bottle, the smooth glass bent and formed into the shape of a skull "this is like a full bottle, I'm drinking this." Ajax did not wait to hear Wade's response as he darted to the kitchen for ice and glasses. Wade may have no actual dishware, but he had collected a ridiculous amount of plastic 7-Eleven cups. Wade loved the stupid logos blazed on them, and how much liquid they could hold, thirty-eight ounces meant he rarely had to get up for a refill; it was way too convenient for how lazy he was.

At least that is what he told himself; in actuality he was a hoarder and did not want to throw anything away. Looking at the cups made him happy for various reasons, the most obvious that a majority of them had been bought during late-night gas station trips with Vanessa, one of his many ill-fated attempts at love. Very few things made Wade happy, and when he found something that made him smile, he held onto it with an iron grip.

Deciding that being amicable would earn him some brownie points, Wade reached under his bed for the tattered shoe box containing one of his many forms of self-medication. The goofy, colorful stickers were starting to peel off, and the phrases he scribbled on the lid in glitter pen had mostly rubbed away. The only sentence still legible being ' _If Sid Viscous had a ukulele, he would have been happy._ '

  
"Maybe I should buy a ukulele" Wade mumbled to himself as he rolled a rather impressive (by his own admission) joint, making sure to use the good weed he was saving for a rainy day. "I could use a hobby." Not that Wade didn't find his everyday life _riveting,_ but everyone needed some way to pass the time.

Maybe he could get a dog. Or a fish. Or a chia pet.

"Do they even still make chia pets?" Like usual he was not expecting a response, yet he still chattered away like a ventriloquists' dummy. Wade talked to himself so often he sometimes forgot it wasn't 'normal.' The voices in his head were not adequate conversationalists; even in his youth when they first manifested could they hold a conversation. Sometimes he got a good coherent sentence or two out of them before it all dissolved into a frantic hellscape. Y and W could speak to him, but they were like some fucked up Stephen King-esque versions of Jiminy Cricket. Any and every mistake or flaw was cause for an unwavering lecture on how worthless he was, how he needed to, right then and there, do something drastic to punish himself.

'Something drastic' usually equaled bloodshed. Bloodshed that he was too weak, in both body and mind, to fight off.

Wade released a mouthful of smoke into his [sploof](http://www.weedist.com/2012/12/how-to-make-a-sploof/), pleased that the dryer sheets he had selected did a decent job at masking the scent. He had decided to use name brand fabric softener, instead of the generic, and the payoff was not half bad.

His jovial mood dipped slightly when Ajax returned, skull vodka tucked under his arm and two plastic cups brimming with ice, "wow you started without me? Some guy you are" Wade grimaced, accepting the tankard of alcohol with less-than-gracious hands. "You're the one who left man, that ain't on me" with a great deal of reluctance, the blonde surrendered the joint to Ajax, and decided to occupy his shaking hands by grasping the cup now in his possession. The condensation slicking the outside made the task much more difficult then it should have been.

Wade was visibly tense, his knee bouncing so swiftly it put a jack rabbit to shame, and he itched _everywhere._ He knew better than to outright ask about the contents of the other man's bag, it never did any good. Ajax decided when Wade got his stuff, sometimes he even decided _if_ he got it.

The blonde hated being so submissive to Ajax, he was nothing more than a puppet for him to toy with and abuse. While Wade put very little value on his worth as a person, (he considered himself slightly above cockroaches but that was subject to change) what little pride he managed to keep was not amused by Ajax and his bullshit.

"Christ will you stop that?" His knee bouncing was shaking the bed, making it difficult for Ajax to stay balanced "you're the twitchiest mother fucker I have ever met." Wade was always in motion, whether it was bouncing his knees or chewing his fingers or pacing the floor. There was the constant hum of terror squirming under his skin to satiate, and the only thing that lessened the fear was movement. Not even the razors he sliced himself with could make it go away for long. Sometimes, in those moments, he would pull open the wounds he had created, desperate to find the source of that writhing sensation. He was convinced he had something alive inside him, like worms or some other parasite; he had to excise them, and if he found the hive they originated from, then he could carve it out and finally be free.

"Sorry dude, too much coffee" Wade dug his elbows into his lap, using his weight as an anchor to hold himself down. He felt like his body was going to fly apart, and keeping his body at rest was only going to intensify that. He had other methods for keeping himself under control. He sometimes found that if he focused on a word, a strange word he rarely utilized, and repeated it like a mantra, it would assuage the situation. It was a band aid solution at best, but with Ajax glaring at him, and Wade needing him to stay happy, it was the only thing he could do.

_'Alcazar, alcazar, alcazar, alcazar, alcazaralcazaralcazaralcazaralcazar...'_

The fist suddenly hitting the side of his head brought the senseless stream of internal babble to an utter standstill.

"I knew you weren't listening to a goddamn thing I was saying" Ajax was starting him down much harder than Wade was comfortable with, "Jesus if you need your shit so badly just say so."

_'Oh'_

Wade wanted to defend himself, insist that no he did _not_ need the drugs and it was just something he did to ease his anxiety; but the plastic zip lock baggie was tossed in his lap as soon as he opened his mouth. The heavy, reassuring weight telling him that it was more than enough to last him a week. Had he not been so careless he might have questioned why Ajax was suddenly being so generous, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Wade was up on his feet as soon as he dared, his body seemingly charged with electricity, his mind racing with what he now needed to get the contents of the bag out of its plastic prison and into his bloodstream. ' _Plastic spoon, I need a new needle I think I have one left in the cabi-'_

Before he could take another step he felt rough, cold hands grip his waist and tug him back down. His ass was instantly seated in Ajax's lap; and those icy hands were on his skin, touching him in ways he really did not want to be touched.

 _'Damnit'_ As panicked as he had been, he was even moreso now. It wasn't as if he hadn't expected it, this was the usual procession of events after all, but now he was faced with the task of saying 'no' to someone he really couldn't say 'no' to.

He had fucked up like this in the past, but he couldn't do it anymore. It was one thing to hurt himself, it was another entirely for him to drag others down with him.

"Um, hey, Francis?" He winced as teeth sunk into his shoulder, a somewhat fresh wound splitting open under the pressure "listen I hate to be the bearer of bad news, I really do, but no I...I Can't." Wade grasped the man's wrists and pulled away from the him, standing shakily as he struggled to appear more confident than he felt. "I met someone, and...I Mean its not serious yet or anything but I really, really like him a lot and I don't want to mess it up an-"

If Ajax had been listening, and Wade suspected that he hadn't, he stopped as soon as Wade insinuated that sex wasn't going to happen. The silence that blanketed the room was deafening, filling the blonde with even more anxiety. He kept his head down, too afraid to look Ajax in the eye; and his hands clenched and relaxed at his sides.

"I'm sorry, I really am I-"

Wade would look back at this moment later and realize his first mistake was saying no, and his second was expecting Ajax to be okay with that.

So when Francis' fist connected with his abdomen, he knew he deserved that for getting his hopes up.

Wade bit back a cry as he doubled over, clutching his stomach while he sank down towards the floor. He wheezed, swallowing bile and the faintest traces of copper; he couldn't catch his breath. The air he was franticly inhaling felt like fire sliding down his esophagus.

Ajax must not have been too angry, as he gave Wade a minute to recoup before grabbing a thick handful of his hair, using that as leverage to yank him up off the floor. Ajax took a moment to stare at him, as if he were deciphering some sort of code, like Wade was a mystery that needed to be solved. If Wade squinted hard enough he swore the other man looked apologetic, but Wade knew that was just his mind playing tricks on him. In all the years Wade had known Ajax, he had never heard him apologize and truly mean it. Especially when it came to this, but Wade really had never really resisted before. It was just how it was, when they first met Wade had been a broke high school student with no money and no means to actually pay for the drugs. But he was more than willing to barter use of his body as collateral.

In his youth, he was able to justify it; yes he was cheating, yes he was filth for doing this, but without the drugs...His mind was like a landfill, stuffed with garbage and dead things. When he was high, he could pretend his head wasn't a resting place for corpses. He could muffle the voices, mute the disgusting urges he felt. He could be _normal._

Of course as the years went on his mindset began to alter; he tried to just use money, like any other client, but Ajax had refused to accept it. He wanted to fuck him and that was never going to change. Wade supposed it was a power thing, Wade couldn't say no or fight back, he had to submit. He knew Ajax loved power, loved being in charge, and he had complete control over another living thing. It was probably just too good of an opportunity to ignore.

Wade had only just gotten his breathing regulated when he was shoved belly down back on the bed. He whimpered at the pressure being put on his injured stomach, but made no effort to get up or stop what was happening. He was stupid for trying in the first place, Ajax always got his way.

The other man had managed to get Wade's shorts down, despite Wade lying still and not moving his body at all. Ajax didn't seem to care, he just wanted Wade to suffer, and it was obvious that, in this moment, he was suffering.

When Wade had been with Nate, he had attempted to set some sort of boundaries. He was willing to get Ajax off, as long as they didn't engage in penetrative sex. For some reason letting the other man fuck him just...He _Couldn't_ do it. He just couldn't let Ajax inside him that way.

It didn't stop him from forcing or insisting upon it, and Wade always gave in; whether it was physical coercion that made him submit or Ajax having sex with him when he was too high or drunk to fight back. It didn't matter, Wade had broken his promise to himself, and that ate him alive day in and day out. 

He couldn't hold the tears in, he couldn't ignore the voices in his head, whispering to the the rhythm of the man's body " _you're a slut, you're a whore..._ " the other man's weight on top of him, holding him down, disgustingly heavy breathing echoing in his ear.

Wade was empty inside, he was a void that needed to be filled. There were so many holes tore through his body, gaps created in childhood that never got the chance to heal. He was an open, festering wound. He was rotting from the inside out, and like all dead things he attracted flies, he attracted people who wanted to use him. No matter how often Wade told himself that this would be the last time, that he wouldn't give in, that he would stop it from happening; it would always end the same way, with him on his knees or his back or his stomach.

He wanted it to be over so badly, Ajax had his hand over Wade's mouth, blocking out any noise he might make. The blonde was grateful for that, he didn't want the neighbors to hear him cry or scream; he didn't want the kids who lived there to hear the violence occurring. The apartment complex was in a shitty part of town, the kids heard enough horrific things, he couldn't contribute to that.

His pelvis felt like it was breaking, his stomach was throbbing, Ajax was using his free hand to grip Wade's arm, irritating the cuts and making them bleed. He was sore and aching all over.

Why did it always seem to last so long? When he was with someone, someone he actually _wanted_ to be with, sex was over too fast. It was never enough contact to him. But this always seemed to go on forever.

Ajax had stopped moving for the time being, and Wade could feel him glaring into the back of his head "Aw, you okay Wade?" It was then that Wade realized he was crying, his eyes screwed shut in an effort to block out the pain "you're acting like I'm raping you."

 _'You are._..'

Was it really rape if Wade had just let it happen? If Wade wasn't a worthless druggie, then he wouldn't be in this situation. He deserved to be in pain, it was a thorough punishment for doing this, for being a willing puppet to a man he despised.

He did manage to get himself under control, he gritted his teeth against any noises that might try to escape. He kept telling himself that it would be over soon and to just hang on a minute longer. Every minute stretched into another, and another, until Wade had lost count of them.

The other man's breathing was becoming erratic, his movements spastic and difficult to control, and when he groaned into Wade's ear, he knew it was finally over.

Wade shuddered, his whole body seizing as Ajax ejaculated inside him. Wade may as well have been vomited on, it felt the same, it was so disgusting.

Ajax got off of him when his burner phone began to vibrate. Leaving Wade alone on the bed as he stepped onto the fire escape to finish off his joint and converse with whomever had called. From the sound of it, it was another dealer.

Wade couldn't find a comfortable position to lie on; his stomach was on fire and lying on his back caused pain to shot up his spine. He settled in his side, despite the agony it caused his pelvis.

Ajax was completely engrossed in whatever conversation was taking place, oblivious to Wade and his pain.

He felt heat crawling up his chest.

Wade hated him so much, but he hated himself even more.

_**'Shove him off'** _

The blonde's breath caught in his throat, his stomach flipping at the sound of that voice. So low and hissing and...evil.

_**'Just do it, who would miss him? The guy is a fucking asshole, you know how much blood is on his hands?'** _

There was just as much blood on his own.

He had no idea how long he laid there, struggling to breathe and fighting the voices in his head, but he couldn't stand feeling dirty any longer. He stood on wobbly legs, grabbing his shorts as he went, he didn't know if he had any other clean clothes. They may have been tainted by what had happened, but he had no other choice.

It was only when Wade had shut the bathroom door behind him that he allowed himself to fully relax, sliding down the back of the door as he buried his face in his hands.

Peter still hadn't texted him.

He had said goodbye to his baby boy almost a week ago, and when Peter had kissed him as he left, the younger man assured him that he would text as soon as he could.

Wade hadn't expected a reply the first day, or the second, but by now, five days after the fact, he was loosing hope.

He should have known better, he should have known that someone so beautiful and kind and loving wouldn't want anything to do with him.

He pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin as he shoved his fingers into his mouth. It was a gross habit, and he knew it, but sucking and biting his fingers calmed him down. It comforted him; and even though Wade knew he shouldn't want to be comforted, because what had happened was his fault, he still wanted to feel that warm sensation in his stomach, spreading through his limbs and lessening the pain, even if just for a moment.

It hurt to sit, and he knew it would hurt for at least a couple days. Ajax wasn't careful with him at all, Wade's body was just a warm, tight place to put his dick, a flesh and blood sex toy.

Once he had continued to bleed for more than a week, and ironically it was Ajax who told him to go to the doctor. He even paid for the visit and abstained from fucking him for awhile, until the lacerations had healed.

Wade frowned around his thumb and forefinger, his back teeth scraping the dampened flesh of his knuckle. Ajax was nice to him sometimes, and when he was nice, Wade didn't know how to respond.

He hated him, that is what he told himself, repeated it in his head as he got up from the floor to shower. It was easier to hate him, then to try and elucidate his emotions.

Usually after cleaning the putridity from his body, Wade felt a bit better, but he didn't today. If anything he became more upset, because now he had to go and face him, look him in the eye and act as if he was okay with what had gone down.

Why was this bothering him now? It really wasn't a problem most days. He could shut his brain off and interact with Ajax as if he were a friend, as if Ajax hadn't just forced his dick into his body.

He couldn't face Ajax now, he just couldn't.

The idea frightened him more than ever before. What if he tried to hurt him again? What if he decided, because Wade hadn't pretended to be an enthusiastic participant, that Wade wasn't getting his fix? What would he do then?

His eyes were swollen and reddened from his tears, and they once again began to fill, stinging as his vision blurred.

Furiously, Wade wiped the tears away, scratching his cheeks as he did so. He despised crying, despised how weak he felt when the tears came. Crying from pain was one thing, it was another to start blubbering like a baby just because he was freaking out.

Oh god was he freaking out.

Between the sink and the toilet was a tiny gap, just large enough for Wade to squeeze into when he curled in on himself. The cramped space made him feel secure, like maybe his body _wasn't_ going to fly apart, his limbs scattered and his bones twisted and broken.

He couldn't breathe, his chest heavy, as if a boat anchor had been placed on top of him, crushing him underneath an oppressive mass. The urge to scream built up in his stomach, dragging up his throat and knocking his teeth loose; wanting to be released, wanting to _get out_.

But all that came out were pained, choking sounds.

Wade clamped his head in between his knees, resisting the desire to bash his head against the porcelain behind him. Why wouldn't the voices _shut up_? He knew he was worthless. He knew he should be dead. He knew _all_ of these things, he didn't need to be told again and again and again.

Shivers racked his body, he couldn't get enough air, he couldn't get enough _anything._

His skin crawled.

Insects of every size scuttled across his flesh, dragging their spindly legs across his flesh. Like needles, or fingertips.

Hands grabbed him from every direction, digging fingernails into him, pulling him apart, tearing him down the middle, touching him, _hurting him_.

He couldn't scream.

He had to be quiet, that is what he had been told while it was happening, to be quiet, and comply. Don't cry, don't fight, just _lie still_.

He was good at that, letting people do whatever they wanted, he had been taught well. Trained like a dog to close his eyes and pretend it wasn't **happening-**

He was going to be sick.

**He couldn't scream.**

Death would be so quiet, it is all he can think about now, as he drags himself to the top drawer of the sink cabinet. If he were dead, then he wouldn't have to deal with this, this emotional overflow that strangled him day in and day out.

But he couldn't die, he had to stay alive. He had to stay alive for _her._

Yes, it hurt, oh God did it hurt.

But nothing hurt more than the idea of never seeing his daughter again.

Wade was on autopilot, his brain had gone offline and he was moving completely by muscle memory. He wasn't here, that was for certain; he was like a fish at the bottom of a cozy aquarium, hiding amongst the rocks and the little plastic castles. Everything was calm. Everything was good.

He could see what he was doing, he watched his fingers unwrap the wax paper protecting the razor blade, the edges so sharp they created shallow cuts in his fingertips. He could see how he purposefully draped his arm over the tub, because blood on the floor was a bitch to clean up, and he could see his hand, the one holding the razor blade, pause; hovering over his skin, the faintest kiss of cold metal. There was always a pause, a moment where your survival instinct kicks in, telling you to stop. It made sense, humans aren't meant to do this, they are meant to survive.

  
Maybe if he were in a better frame of mind, he would think about that, how funny it was that he needed something that was killing him to survive. But deeper thought was lost on him, all he cared about was finding relief from the agony gripping his mind.

And relief he was going to get.

The screams he had held back erupted as his skin split apart. The almighty rip across his forearm opening a portal into hell, into _himself;_ spilling everything he wanted to say, but was forced to hold inside, out into the outside world. He had screamed, but he had not uttered a word.

Everything was quiet.

The only sound was the steady dripping of the faucet, the faucet he had asked to have fixed more than once. He reminded himself to call maintenance and put in the request again.

Or maybe it wasn't the faucet, maybe it was the steady stream of blood dribbling down into the tub. He didn't know, and didn't really care. All he cared about was the blessed silence that had taken over his brain. He was back in the present, and not in the past.

And although he despised the present, perhaps even more than the past, he needed to be here, _in this moment_.

Gruesome as it was, the sheer volume of red now coating the porcelain, it was very calming to witness, like staring into a river as it flowed out to sea.

"I'm gonna need stitches" He rested his head on his arm, continuing to watch the bloodshed with languid interest, Wade didn't know much about first aid, or injury, but he knew that if there was a layer of fat visible in the wound, it would need stitches.

Not that he was going to go get them. He had cut deeper than this before, and everything worked out okay in the end. He didn't need _anyones_ help. He could manage.

Wade's arm felt oddly heavy, his pulse thudding steadily under his skin. Each thump of his heart pushing more blood to the surface, more blood that spilled, more blood that he lost.

He was very tired.

Wade struggled to keep his eyes open, but he was exhausted. A sort of bone deep fatigue that was nigh impossible to fight off. He hadn't been sleeping much the last couple days. He hadn't eaten anything either, not that he had much of an appetite these days...

Time hiccups, and when he opens his eyes next it is because he is being nudged none too gently by a steel toe boot. Ajax is staring at him with an expression difficult to read; it may have been disgust, it may have been annoyance. Wade's vision was too blurry to tell. He honestly had no idea what the other man thought about most of the time. For all he knew Ajax just played the keyboard cat song in his head on repeat.

"Oh okay" he says when Wade opens his eyes "I thought you were dead."

If Wade wasn't so damn tired, he might have made a joke about how he wasn't lucky enough to be dead, or about how he wasn't going to die unless he got to take Francis down with him. All of his humor was gone, all he wanted to do was sleep for awhile. Just a little bit more...

_'Five more minutes mom...'_

He has no way of telling time, trapped in this limbo of meager wakefulness and fitful slumber. He can only keep his eyes closed for a short while before pain jolts him back to consciousness. His legs were cramped from sitting for too long, he still hurt between his thighs, his hips feel bruised. His whole body was an inflamed blister. 

Wade makes several attempts to stand, failing each time as he crashes back to the floor. By the time he found it in himself to stay upright and exit the bathroom, Ajax was gone.

Good, fine by him. Wade didn't want to deal with that bastard anymore than he had to. 

He didn't know when Francis had left, he probably stuck around just long enough to make sure Wade was actually alive, and then took off. It should have flattered him, that Ajax wanted to see if he was still kicking, but Wade knew there were ulterior motives behind it. And truth be told he didn't want Ajax near him when he was fully cognizant, let alone half dead. He had woken up one too many times naked and covered in bruises from letting Ajax around when he was passed out. 

The only sign that Francis had been there was a note taped to his fridge.

Sneering, Wade snatched the paper from the door, he was tempted to just rip the damn thing to shreds. He didn't want to do whatever bullshit job Francis had assigned him. He knew he needed the money, the lights had to stay on somehow...Not to mention rent, food, Netflix, booze...

A drink sounded pretty good right about now. 

Wade put all of his misplaced aggression into ripping open the fridge door. The hinges squealed from the strain, threatening to break off. He winced, kicking it for good measure, ensuring that the appliance knew who was boss and wouldn't fall apart on him. Wade was already down a toaster and a blender; the fridge, coffee maker, and microwave were all he had left. 

Speaking of all he had left, he was down to his emergency reserves. A half full bottle of Jose Cuervo, a fifth of crappy gin, a couple assorted beers...And Swedish Fish flavored vodka.

"Well aren't I SOL?"  He bemoaned, snagging the tequila and the gin, deciding he would save the vodka for tomorrow. As unpalatable as it was, he could easily mask the taste with orange kool-aid powder. 

So maybe he _did_ need to take that job.

Then again, that would depend on what the job entailed. 

Wade threw himself down on the couch, popping off the bottle cap on the gin with his teeth. It was a neat party trick, too bad he could never show anyone. 

A fifth was just enough to get him buzzed, and he was going to need that tonight. His brain still felt jagged, like shards of glass were lodged inside his skull; he knew the minute he tried to sleep, he would be catapulted into a flashback at the slightest provocation. One was enough for today, he didn't want to deal with anymore. 

He didn't even bother to check his arm, he knew it was a disaster, he didn't need to look. Judging from the lightning bolts of pain that jutted up to his shoulder blade, and how heavy the limb felt, how hard it was to flex his fingers, he might have torn the muscle. 

"Fuck" Wade tilted his head back, the burn of the alcohol sliding down his throat a welcome distraction. As long as the arteries were unscathed, he would be fine. He didn't need to nick any more of those. That was truly painful, and a huge mess. 

With the gin half gone, he picked the note up off the floor, settling into the cushions as he skimmed the hastily scrawled lines. It was the usual fair, some dude owed Francis money and hadn't made his payments on time. So now Wade had to go to his place to rough him up, shaking him down like a bully for a nerd's lunch money. Wade would get half, and then he could go to the liquor store and buy not-crappy gin and vodka that didn't taste like dish detergent. 

Oh, and pay his bills he supposed. 

He sighed, folding the note into a paper aeroplane and aiming it at the television. He had no other plans for today, he had expected Francis to hang around a lot longer, mainly to torment him, molest him a bit more, and peace out after ruining Wade's day. He might try and get Wade drunk, Wade was always a tad more receptive to the aforementioned molesting when he was drunk. Granted, it was due to the fact that he couldn't physically _defend himself_ , but Wade wasn't one to argue semantics. It was better than being beat into submission, or tied down and gagged. 

Francis adored dominating others, dictating his lackeys and toadies every action. Those traits carried over into the bedroom it seemed, and Wade was a living testament to that. His body had been bent and broken in every way possible. Francis wanted Wade bruised and bloody and _in pain_.

Wade would gladly accept the torture, accept the pain, but Francis loved fucking with his mind, as well as his body. Sometimes he touched him in ways that felt good, forcing pleasure on him until Wade unwillingly orgasmed. 

The other man loved it when Wade broke down afterwards. He loved watching Wade bury his face in his hands, in a vain effort to hold back the tears of humiliation. It amused him endlessly to see Wade in such a state, sick to his stomach and hating himself. It got him off more than the actual sex. 

Francis wanted Wade stripped of any dignity he had left.

"Jokes on you Francis" Wade rested his head on the top of the couch, speaking to the cracked, dirty ceiling, "I've got fucking none."

Wade had nothing to give. Every person who had touched him in the past took something from him, a pound of flesh, and now Wade was nothing but bones and blood. 

So much blood. 

Wade was back on autopilot, swigging gin as he rinsed out the bottom of the tub. The smell of blood left to rot was absolutely disgusting. Then came the fun of taping his skin back together. Now that he was actually paying attention, he could see that he had done a real doozy on himself; the wound resembled a gaping maw, yellow clearly detectable within the red. It took a bit of finagling, and half a container of butterfly strips, but eventually he got the stupid cut to close. Good, now he just had to remember to not injure that arm. He had another after all. 

The time flashed on the cable box, it was a little after six.

He finished off the gin, moving on to the tequila. 

The sun was beginning to set, he could hear his neighbors returning home from work, families greeting them and saying hello to those across the hall. It shouldn't bother him, but he found the jovial commotion horrifically depressing. Wade had no friends and no family, nobody was ever happy to see him. 

He was completely alone. 

Wade's stomach growled, his appetite finally returning after its three day hiatus. He settled on eating half a box of Little Debbie snack brownies. He had forgotten he even _bought_ those, he must have went grocery shopping high again. 

The time flashed on the cable box, it was a little after seven.

Watching the rest of the sunset sounded nice. He loved watching the sun rise and fall, there was something oddly grounding about it. The world was still spinning, life went on, and Wade was a part of it. In his own strange way. 

The temperature had dropped since this morning, and it was too cold for him to sit outside in just his shorts and tanktop. So Wade soon found himself wrapped in a ratty old black hoodie, arms behind his head as he laid down on the fire escape. He was cocooned in rusted metal, he was safe from harm. He didn't have to worry, at least for a time.

Wade was an expert at smoking lying down, he hardly got any ash in his eye. Today was a good day.  

He gulped the remaining tequila and threw the bottle over the edge. He wished he could have heard the resulting crash, but the [music ](http://nicoledollanganger.bandcamp.com/track/lividity)he was listening to drowned out almost all other noise. Sometimes he enjoyed the sounds of the city, and sometimes he detested it. Right now he was just...Indifferent. 

  
_If i believe good wombs have borne bad sons_

  
_Then i have no qualms using my gun_

  
_I only love the things that i can hurt..._

_Can hurt..._

  
  
_Taking baths in all of the bloodshed_

  
_From the shots i put into your head_

  
_I'll shoot and break my nose from the blow..._

  
_What doesn't kill me makes me wish I was dead..._

 

His phone vibrated, startling him from the alcohol-induced haze fogging his brain. Hastily unlocking his phone, Wade hadn't the slightest idea who would be texting him. Texts were rare these days, he sometimes got one or two from Al, and more than once he got some from Nate, but those were immediately deleted. For obvious reasons...

It was Peter.

Wade sat up much too quickly, dizziness overtook him almost immediately, but he could care less. Peter had _texted him_.

 

_I know, I SUCKKK for not getting back 2 u sooner, plz forgive me?? There is lunch at Jack's on Third if you agree!! I know u love pancakes_

 

Wade snorted, the text concluded with a trail of emojis, complete with one making _finger guns_. Who could say no to that?

 

_Bby boi u kno I'll b there, txt me the deets k? I promise I'll wear something sluttyy_

 

Now it was his turn to overuse emojis. Never in his life had he paid so much attention to what type of goofy smiling face he should put at the end of a message, but then again, no one had ever been able to match (and outdo) his silliness. If Peter was half as purposefully bad as him with texts, this was going to be fun. 

The conversation lasted for hours, they traded everything from stupid memes to Cracked articles. Wade sent Peter a list of bands to listen to, and Peter responded with a list of books he should read. 

Wade never wanted it to end. He could have stayed like this forever. He prayed that this wasn't a dream.

 

_Gotta go 2 bed, c u soon Wade_

 

The message ended with a heart, Wade responded with a kiss.

 

_Good night Baby boy_

 

Today was a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooo doggy...I wish I had a better excuse for this update being late, but I only have one.
> 
> This was depressing as hell to write. 
> 
> That's it, that is my excuse. I would write a little at a time, and come back to it. I took frequent breaks, I watched a lot of cat videos. 
> 
> This took a lot out of me. Mainly because I'm a recovering self-harmer, and writing about self-harm triggers me easily. So I had to utilize my coping skills, and keep my brain tied outside to a tree. It ran around the trunk and choked itself, my brain is dumb. 
> 
> The next chapter is going to be nothing but ridiculous fluff, with cuddling and first date hijinks. But please keep in mind that Wade and Ajax's "relationship" is going to be an ongoing plotpoint. So this will not be the only chapter featuring his abuse of Wade.
> 
> I also went with Francis' movie appearance, no particular reason, just felt right yo. 
> 
> Fun fact, the memory at the beginning of the chapter is one of my own  
> -Jazz hands-
> 
> 1-800-DON'T-CUT – More info on self-injury
> 
> http://www.selfinjury.com – Referrals for therapists and tips for how to stop
> 
> 1-800-273-TALK – A 24-hour crisis hotline if you're about to self-harm or are in an emergency situation.
> 
> 1-800-334-HELP-Self Injury Foundation's 24-hour national crisis line.
> 
> http://www.samhsa.gov/find-help/national-helpline-free, 24-hour-a-day, 365-day-a-year, information service, in 1-800-662-HELP (4357)-English and Spanish, for individuals and family members facing mental health and/or substance use disorders


	7. You can count on me to get on my knees for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Songs: (these songs are a lot different than the others I've chosen, hope it doesn't shake up the flow of the soundtrack!)
> 
> Metric-Blindness  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=spqgpkobEh4
> 
> A perfect Circle- Thinking of you  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oJWM52RS7Cg
> 
> Seafret - To the Sea  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=faFoxh7bSR8
> 
> Annalisa Nutt- Drunk On Love (Rhianna cover)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DG3QNMvjZwM
> 
>  
> 
> TW: Sexual content, descriptions of anxiety

  
"For the last time, I am not bringing those with me!"

 

Peter Parker and Johnny Storm had been friends for so long, they could usually tell what the other was thinking, and as a result were rarely surprised by each other's actions.

 

But when Johnny had burst into his dorm the morning of his lunch date with Wade, brandishing a box of (ribbed, and flavored) condoms, alongside a bottle of (dear God) _extra_ slippery lube; Peter could say, with total honesty, he was flabbergasted.

 

"But you said you guys already messed around, why notttt?" The blonde stretched out on Peter's bed, flipping over on his back like a big cat exposing its belly as he whined. "You met this dude in a bar Peter, a _bar_ , you can never be too careful."

 

Gwen walked over to where Peter stood, surrounded by piles of discarded clothing, shoes, and accessories. His many failed attempts at putting together an outfit, "yeahh but I want to, you know, _actually_ get to know him before we get to that point."

 

_'Not that I thought about it or anything'_

 

Okay, so Peter had allowed his mind (and his hands) to wander during the week, so what? He was allowed.

 

Of course, he probably thought about Wade way too often for it to be considered 'healthy.'

 

The struggle was, to put it bluntly, real.

 

Every night was a memory minefield; he could still, when he closed his eyes, feel Wade's skin under his fingertips, hear those breathy gasps, that tiny sound he made " _guh_." Peter had never heard anyone make a noise like that, he had no idea what it signified. He didn't care, he just knew that it caused his stomach to stir from arousal.

 

The other man's sensitivity continued to haunt him (in the best way possible,) Peter didn't even know someone could orgasm just from the simplest of stimulation. He had touched and teased Wade's chest, and he came. What else could make him come?

 

It had only been a week, and Peter already had a favorite fantasy. Of Wade lying under him, looking up with those big blue eyes while Peter shushed him, buried to the hilt in the blonde's body, " _We have to be quiet Wade, Harry's right over there_..." It would serve him right, the last four years had been pockmarked by Peter waking up to creaking bedsprings and inaudible giggling.

 

The prospects kaleidoscoped in Peter's mind, could he make Wade come solely from fingering? What about rimming? He would be lying if he said he also didn't want to touch Wade's chest again...

 

Peter shook his head, accepting the shirt Gwen had handed him, steering clear of any thoughts that might cause trouble. Jesus, when he did he become such a pervert? It wasn't as if Wade was his first sexual partner. He needed to get a grip, and quickly.

 

"Thanks for helping me out guys," he said with genuine sincerity "I'm so lost when it comes to fashion."

 

Wade and Peter had agreed to meet at Jack's at two o'clock, and Peter had been awake since _six_ that morning. He couldn't remember the last time a date made him this agitated.

 

He had started getting ready around ten, beginning with a ridiculously long shower where he drained every drop of hot water and used up the last of his 'special occasion' soap. The soap Aunt May had given him as a birthday gift; he adored the scent, which was reminiscent of a forest after a rainstorm, and he only used it when he wanted to make sure he smelled particularly nice.

 

Then came the part when he was, after an hour of trying on every item of clothing he possessed (and some of Harry's, because he wasn't there to stop him) practically breaking down Mary Jane and Gwen's door, on the verge of absolute panic. He hadn't the slightest clue what to wear.

 

Mary Jane was in charge of shoes and accessories, Gwen of shirts and jeans. The two of them were having way too much fun. Mary Jane, being the aspiring fashion designer that she was, could put together an outfit like nobody's business. Gwen was no slouch either, she had what MJ called "an amazing color sense." The two of them played off of each other perfectly.

 

Johnny's purpose was, apparently, to rile Peter as much as he could.

 

"Did you at least eat the pineapple chunks I got you? I left them at your door-"

 

Peter whirled around to glare at his friend, nearly knocking poor Gwen over in his haste "no" he growled, before adding a soft, unhearable " _yes_..."

 

Johnny grinned, snuggling deeper in Peter's [dorky](http://favim.com/orig/201108/23/bed-bedroom-cute-gibly-tonari-no-totoro-Favim.com-128615.jpg), yet very comfortable bedding. The blonde was an oddball, he loved being warm, and was often bundled up; or in this case, turned into a blanket burrito. Peter and the rest had already been bored to tears by Johnny's long winded rants about how much he was going to miss summer.

 

"What is this [music ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=spqgpkobEh4)by the way?" Mary Jane was holding a pair of shoes for him, the last piece of his meticulously crafted ensemble "it's nice, but not what I'm used to hearing from you"

 

Peter was one of those strange people who never thought about music very often, he appreciated it, and enjoyed listening to the bands he loved; but Wade seemed to understand music in ways Peter couldn't. Music was Wade's escape, while Peter's was in photography and books.

 

_What it is and where it stops nobody knows_

  
_You gave me a life I never chose_

  
_I wanna leave but the world won't let me go_

  
_Wanna_ leave _but the world won't let me go_

 

_What it is and where it stops nobody knows_

  
_You gave me a life I never chose_

 

_I was the one with the world at my feet_

  
_Got us a battle, leave it up to me_

  
_Leave it up to me, leave it up to me..._

 

"The band is called...Metric I think?" Peter snagged his phone from his desk, unplugging it from the charger, "yeah Metric. it was one of the bands Wade suggested."

 

Mary Jane hummed along to the wailful tune, "it's kind of, I don't know, melancholic?" Gwen nodded in agreement, "you'll have to send me that list Wade gave you, he has good taste."

 

It shouldn't have made Peter so giddy that his friends thought Wade was cool, or at the very least thought his choice of music was good. If things went well between them, and his friends liked him, then Peter's life would be so much easier.

 

It was not as if his friends didn't like Felicia, or did not attempt to get along with her, it was just that the young woman was so...unique, she was truly an individual, marching to the beat of her own drummer. She was also fiercely independent, and Peter, being the social creature that he was, just couldn't deal with the idea of not seeing his friends as often.

 

Maybe it was the years of solitude he spent as a child, playing alone and having almost no friends, that drove Peter to constantly search for companionship. Peter had always wanted a close-knit group of friends, the kind that went places together and hung out on the weekends; and now Peter had that, and he never wanted to lose them.

In short, he was a lonely soul.

 

Tieing his laces, and straightening out his [clothes](http://www.polyvore.com/peter-chapter_seven/set?id=201929077), he turned to his friends, his face belying how terrified he truly was, "do I look okay?" God, he was so nervous.

 

"You look great tiger" Mary Jane kissed his cheek, "go, have a good time" Gwen followed up with a hug; Johnny a clap on the shoulder "its gonna be great, Wade won't know what hit him."

 

He knew his friends had no reason to lie to him, but years of bullying had stripped him of most of his confidence. He had gotten better as the years went on, but the fear of rejection remained.

 

Wade had no reason to reject him, that is what Peter told himself as he made his way to the subway station. Wade had been nothing but kind to him, he hadn't given Peter any reason to be uneasy. Wade looked at Peter as if he were a piece of art, like he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Peter didn't understand that, he was just some scrawny kid desperately trying to fit in, trying to find his own voice.

 

His stomach lurched into his throat every other moment.

 

He couldn't get the blonde out of his head, the last week had been torturous, not having the time to speak to Wade. Work was busy, school busier, and when Peter had a spare moment it was spent sleeping or huddled in the bathroom, having his nightly panic attack (you could practically set your watch to those damn things.)

 

Peter was afraid that Wade wouldn't want anything to do with him after that.

 

So when Wade not only answered his texts but also agreed to meet him the next day, one of the few days he had off from both work and school, needless to say, Peter was ecstatic.

 

Now all he had to do was make it to Jack's on time, and he should be golden.

 

Subways in New York were always crowded, but they were particularly crowded on Saturday afternoons. Peter apprehensively checked his phone every other minute, he had plenty of time, but since when does anxiety make sense?

 

At least he knew exactly where he was going, He had the route memorized by now.

 

After all, Jack's was an institution among the students at Empire State, one of the first things you do as a freshman is have a meal there. The diner had been in operation for almost fifty years and had seen generations of ESU graduates come and go.

 

It was by no means fancy dining, but the meals were inexpensive, well-proportioned, and they served breakfast all day; Peter knew Wade liked pancakes. Wade had listed them as one of his favorite foods while the two of them had been talking, waiting for the taxi Wade had called for him.

 

Peter knew next to nothing about Wade, yet he wanted to know everything. What was his favorite band? His favorite movie? To be honest, he didn't care what Wade talked about, as long as he got to hear him speak; his voice was so...Well, Peter could only describe it as _sexy_. It was raspy like he had strained it from yelling. Or crying. Maybe it was smoking that caused it, maybe it was genetic. Either way, he was a bit jealous, his own voice was squeaky and he always sounded like he was being sarcastic, even if he wasn't.

 

And those eyes. _God damn_ those eyes. It killed him how bright they were. How emotive, he could say so much with a single look.

 

He wondered, not for the first time, if Wade would be willing to model for him. Peter needed to bulk up his portfolio; with graduation coming up (his stomach cramped at the thought of it, his hands slick with sweat) and with his ultimate goal of working freelance, he would have to add a bit more "oomph" to his work. He wanted to succeed, to carve a path through life that would make him feel as if he had truly left his past behind.

 

At the very least Peter did not want to wind up a studio photographer at a department store.

 

He had already filled his portfolio with pictures of Mary Jane, as she was an obvious choice; beautiful and photogenic, she could pose like a model, knowing exactly how to move her body, to speak to the camera in a way only she understood. Harry, Gwen, and Johnny had a few pages, as well as Felicia, and a lovely young woman in his journalism class named Cindy. They all did a wonderful job, and he would not trade their pictures for anything, but Wade would stand out in ways they simply couldn't.

 

Peter had so many ideas; they came to him while he watched Wade sit in the window frame while he smoked. Feeling comfortable around him, allowing himself to be vulnerable, Wade had shrugged off his flannel overshirt; scars bared, eyes lowered in fear, in _shame_ , as he faced him in the mid-afternoon light. Peter knew he could never recreate that scene again, and he had mourned the loss of it ever since.

 

The moment was far too intimate to ruin by asking for a picture anyway; showing his scars was obviously something Wade only did when he trusted someone. Like an animal displaying their neck, Peter had only had that trust for a minuscule blip in time, but he never wanted to lose it. To endanger it.

 

Wade was fragile, that much Peter knew. He was poorly held together by flimsy string, and the slightest tug on the wrong seam could cause him to fall apart.

 

Peter wanted to know what had caused the blonde so much pain, his soul was so wounded it hurt him to think of it. When he had handed Wade the photograph of his former lover, the excruciation radiated off of him in waves, Peter couldn't imagine what secrets Wade kept hidden under his false veneer of humor and bravado.

 

His stop came up much too soon for his liking, and as he exited the subway car, he was once again throttled by jitteriness. Should he had bought Wade a gift? Would that had been too much for a first date? Was this even a first date? They had already slept together, were the rules different because of that?

 

He had forgotten to brush his teeth.

 

He was now in a complete state of terror, breathing into his hand and sniffing, not caring about the peculiar looks he received. Other than coffee, he hadn't eaten anything, he was too tense. He had attempted some eggs and bacon but halfway through the eggs he began to feel sick. His breath held no trace of the food he had picked at, but he did smell the coffee. In copious amounts.

 

Peter stood frozen on the spot, gnawing on his fingernails, tasting the faintest hints of blood 'fuck, fuck, fuck.' Christ, was there a corner store or something he could run to for gum? Would gum even help? What if Wade wanted to kiss and was grossed out by him? What if-?

 

"Peter?"

 

Welp.

 

Peter resisted the urge to run screaming in the other direction, and instead faced the man standing behind him. He had no doubts as to who it was. He had only heard it a few times, but he would recognize that voice anywhere. "You _actually_ showed up?"

 

Yes, it was Wade.

 

And _holy shit_ did he look nice.

 

While not as revealing as he had teased it would be, Wade's [clothes ](http://www.polyvore.com/wade-chapter_seven/set?id=201928522)still flattered him immensely. Peter couldn't help but grin, Wade was in leggings, just as he had flirtily suggested the last time they met.

 

The jacket was unzipped, giving Peter (and everyone else) an impertinent peek of his abdomen, which the brunette noticed was decorated with a minute rose. Peter had never seen a guy with a navel ring, he had always assumed that was a piercing exclusive to girls, but somehow Wade made it almost winsome in nature.

 

Speaking of navels. How the hell did someone who lived off of junk food keep their stomach so flat? A tinge of envy flared up, snuggled alongside the attraction. Peter had tried working out, but he always stayed a bit lean, or downright bony. He just had too difficult a time gaining muscle. Johnny had invited him to the gym numerous times, and with each workout, he lost hope. Wade apparently had zero trouble. Maybe it was genetic, like his immaculate bone structure and croaky voice.

 

What made him frown, though, was that if he looked closely, he swore he could see bruising on Wade's stomach. He wanted to ask him about it, did Wade get hurt? If he did that to himself, then... _Ouch_. From what he could see, the contusions were nearly black.

 

"It's impolite to stare baby boy"

 

Peter snapped back to reality at Wade's tone. There was a teasing quality to it, but there was also an undercurrent of annoyance. Peter did not want this date to start off with Wade feeling self-conscious.

 

"Can you blame me for staring, though?" Peter reached out, snagging Wade snugly in his arms. The blonde tensed at the sudden contact but quickly relaxed as Peter's fingers began to drift lower, towards his waist. "Seriously Wade, you look so... _hot_." He was trying to give off an air of confidence that he seriously did not feel, but he soon realized how dorky he sounded, and there was no way to take back his cheesy statement.

 

Joy.

 

"Okay, so let's start over" Peter cleared his throat, avoiding looking Wade in the eyes "hi, my name is Peter Parker..."

 

Wade snickered as the other man's face began to heat up, it was not an unkind sound, just a cute chuckle that intensified his blush. Well, there went his shoddy attempt at machismo.

 

"You look _hot_ too there Petey" The younger man let out a decidedly uncharismatic squeak as Wade sneaked a cheeky grope of his ass "I'm digging the whole Seattle coffeehouse meets sexy lumberjack look."

 

"Rats, I was going for Portland coffeehouse, not that you would know the difference" Wriggling free of the older man's grasp, Peter looped his arm through Wade's, leading him in the direction of the diner. "And who are you to poke fun at outfits Mr? It's better than your 'I stabbed her but I didn't mean to kill her' get up."

 

"RIP Nancy" Wade laughed, bending his neck to rest on the younger's shoulder, grinning ear to ear and looking carefree as a lovesick teenager. With Wade this close, Peter caught a quick hint of a sort of delicate scent. Sugared, akin to fruity bubblegum, it clung to Wade like a second skin. A far cry from the odor that Peter had learned to associate with him; smoke and sweat and rich leather.

 

The streets were teaming with early afternoon life. People in rumpled business suits rushed past, shoveling pastries or fruit into their mouth, struggling to get back to work on time. Always busy, always behind. The sight of them made Peter nervous in a way he couldn't place.

 

He didn't want to work an office job, he didn't want to be trapped in a cubicle at a desk for nine hours a day. When Peter envisioned his future, he saw himself as a free agent, doing what he loved and finally enjoying his life. He certainly had hated his life long enough, he wanted to revel in it.

 

Wade was hopping and bouncing every other step, making it difficult to hold onto him. Despite that, Peter couldn't help but smile; seeing the blonde so happy and untroubled was worth the aggravation, and he decided right then and there that his mission for the day was to keep Wade grinning ear to ear. He wanted Wade to laugh himself silly, he never wanted him to be unhappy.

 

The walk to Jack's was a fairly short one, made longer by having to dodge and weave in between the hoard of business folk. Normally Peter detested crowds, wanting to be as far away from them as possible, but Wade didn't seem to mind in the slightest. He happily skipped and chattered away, undeterred by the glares and the muttered put-downs hurled at him.

 

He wondered if it was an act or if Wade just didn't care what others thought, either way, he envied his seemingly unaffected air.

"Did you know that dolphins are totally down to mate with humans?" Wade tugged Peter's arm, struggling to keep his attention, which he never lost in the first place "It's trueeee I watched a doc-u-men-terry on it, and then a bunch a' youtube videos just to make sure, and holy crap dolphins really will hump you into next week if ya let em." Did Wade ever pause for breath? Maybe that is why he was so good with his mouth, he never had to breathe. "Speaking of underwater mammals, which I totally mentioned on porpoise, you ever watch Blackfish? My heart, seriously empty those tanks man, empty em!"

 

A tall man in a gray suit shoulder bumped Wade, interrupting his tangent while murmuring about how disgusting the sight of them holding hands was; Peter didn't catch the whole insult, but what he heard was very impolite. Truth be told he didn't want to know what the man said; Peter had been doing his damnedest for years to let insults slide off him, like water on a duck, but it was difficult. Every derisive comment made him feel small, weak, and insignificant.

 

Wade chuckled at the man's back, shaking his head "Jeez, somebody accidently used hand sanitizer for lube this morning, can you-" whatever Wade was going to say, it quickly died when he saw Peter's expression. The younger struggled to keep the smile plastered on, but it withered almost as soon as it appeared. All Peter wanted to do now was go back to his dorm and hide under about fifty or sixty blankets.

 

The blonde had other ideas.

 

" _ **Hey**_!" Wade yelled, turning around to face the man still within earshot "hey **_fuckfist_** -"

 

Peter supposed he should have been flattered that Wade was so quick to defend his honor, but he found the whole situation humiliating. He clasped a hand over Wade's mouth, dragging him off of the sidewalk and into a seemingly deserted alleyway nestled in between two large office buildings. It was quiet there, and he could calm Wade down and not cause a scene.

 

Peter was surprised at how easy it was to drag Wade, while he wasn't much smaller than him, the older just seemed so stubborn, like he would never walk away (willingly) from a fight. Yet the moment Peter's hand covered his mouth, he went completely still; he was shaking slightly as well and that raised a lot of questions that Peter wasn't quite sure how to address.

 

"Easy there killer" Peter pressed Wade's back against the roughly hewn bricks, using what strength he had to hold him in place; hiding them behind a dumpster that reeked of garbage left to rot in the summer heat. Not that Wade was putting up much of a fight, he was still staring at him, his eyes wide and pale skin dusted with pink. "I'm letting go now, you swear you're not gonna go barking after that dude?"

 

Wade nodded his hands desperately grasping at nothing and whole body trembling. His breath coming out roughly through his nose.

 

"Okay..." Peter hesitated a moment longer, unsure if he could trust Wade to not go running back out into the streets. But when he let go, all the blonde did was collapse bonelessly on his ass.

 

"Wade!" Oh god Peter felt horrible, he must have really hurt him "Wade I'm sorry"

 

There was no response from the other man, bar from a whimper, he had curled in on himself, arms clasped between his knees. He was shaking, ever so slightly.

 

"...Wade?"

 

Peter dropped to his knees, kneeling eye level with Wade, and this close to him he could feel the heat coming off of his body. He was burning up, he was panting.

 

The younger placed an uncertain hand on Wade's calf, rubbing his palm over the smooth cloth-covered skin. he thought that maybe establishing contact would assuage Wade in some way.

 

Yet all his touch did was make Wade cry out hoarsely, squirming as he pressed his arms harder between his legs.

 

Now Peter was confused, was Wade freaked out by him or...?

 _Oh_.

 

"Are you serious?" Peter's hand skimmed higher, massaging Wade's trembling thigh, "you're seriously turned on by me shoving you against a wall?"

 

Wade opened his eyes, his pupils were blown, black nearly concealing the china blue "shut it" his voice was higher pitched, almost squeaky "you're the one who had to go all alpha male and get my gears going."

 

"I wasn't trying to!" Peter could feel his face flushing, this was so embarrassing. What was he supposed to do in this situation?

 

Well, there was _one_ option...They were pretty well hidden, the dumpster and various other refuse blocking the view. That and most of the foot traffic had dissipated...

 

Peter glanced furtively to his side, his heart thudding in his chest, blood pumping almost exclusively to his groin.

 

"...Wade"

 

The blonde glanced up at the sound of Peter's voice, he was still squirming, obviously uncomfortable. "Petey?"

 

The younger leaned in close, hazel locked with blue in an unwavering gaze. Their breaths mingled in the short space between them, ' _am I really about to do this_?'

 

Wade shifted, placing his hands on either side of himself, opening his thighs to reveal the sizable bulge trapped in his shorts, dampness visible through the snug denim.

 

Peter moved in between the blonde's legs, unsure of what to do, how to initiate. Did he just outrightly say what he wanted? What did he even _want_ to do?

 

Wade wriggled his hips, lips still parted in an effort to get enough air, tickling Peter's nose and mouth. They were so close and yet Peter felt miles away.

 

"P-Peter please" The older's voice so rough a match could be struck on it "please, touch me."

 

' _Oh fuck_ '

 

Peter breathed heavily, chucking the remaining dregs of his caution before pressing his mouth to Wade's; the kiss was rougher than he truly intended, but from the way Wade gasped, then groaned, he must have done something right.

 

His hands rested uncertainty on Wade's knees, drawn practically up to the blonde's chest. His legs remained splayed apart, giving Peter unobstructed access to his body. Peter pressed his pelvis to Wade's, surprised but incredibly turned on to discover that Wade was hard as granite; needy and desperate and **wanting**. _And it was because of him._

 

Wade's tongue curled past Peter's teeth, searching and teasing every inch of him; the stud threaded through the muscle made him shudder. It created a bizarrely delicious sensation and gave Wade's salvia a strangely metallic tang. He tasted of smoke and bubblegum.

 

Peter slid his palms down Wade's thighs, relishing the feel of firm, yet soft flesh under his greedy fingertips. The lecherous wandering ended when his hands slipped around the small of Wade's back, resting right above the curve of his ass. Wade may have complimented Peter's own rear end, but Wade's was amazing in its own right.

 

The blonde had very little body fat, he was quite rangy. What cushion he did have went straight to his ass. And when Peter none too gently grabbed him, he could feel just how pliant it was. The resulting moan made Peter grind into him harder, the crotch of Wade's pants dampened from sweat and precum. The scent of his arousal sharp and heavy in the air.

 

Wade rocked his body against Peter's, wanting more friction, more touch, more anything. Their lips broke apart and Wade tossed his head like a restless mare. Still greedily gulping air, Wade dug his face into the brunette's shoulder. He mumbled something against him, "need more" was all Peter could discern.

 

God peter _wanted_ to give him more, he wanted to bend Wade over any available surface he could find and fuck him until neither one could move.

 

But they were in public, they were risking so much just by doing this, he couldn't give Wade what he truly wanted, what they both wanted. But he could do something to alleviate the blonde's need.

 

The younger pulled away, making Wade whine as he went searching for the backpack he had tossed to the side. He knew he had some random napkins or something in there, he would need something to keep Wade and himself clean. While it would do a piss poor job of doing so, it was better than soiling their clothes.

 

When he turned back to him, napkins in hand, Wade frenziedly clutched Peter's shoulders, tugging him into a kiss that was more urgency than tenderness. Harsh and dirty, it almost hurt as Wade's teeth scrapped over his lips and tongue. Copper splashed over his taste buds. He didn't know if it was his own blood or Wade's.

 

Peter gripped Wade's tongue stud between his teeth, an insidious urge making him yank. The older cried out in pain, voice muffled against Peter's lips. The taste of blood exploded, and the younger felt Wade's cock twitch in his shorts.

 

Peter's hands grabbed the hem of Wade's top, lifting it over the blonde's stomach and chest. And yes, Wade was bruised all over. When he actually had blood flowing to his brain he would ask him about it, but right now all he did was pull away from the primal kiss and stuff the cotton in Wade's mouth.

 

"Hold this," Peter said and he fumbled with the button fly of Wade's shorts. While he loved the look of it, the dual layer of denim and cotton from the leggins made freeing his cock much more difficult than it needed to be.

 

This was the first time Peter would be seeing Wade's member, and the sight of it, flushed, diamond hard; the head uncut and dribbling opaline precum, did not disappoint.

 

" _Wow_ ," Peter breathed, fingers raking over the shaft, ridged with veins, as he swathed the coarse paper napkins around the head "you're pretty big."

 

Wade shivered, even more, precum welling from his engorged cockhead, wetting the meager sheath. "Someone likes compliments" Peter wrapped his fist around the thick meat of the blonde's dick. "You're so big and look how hard you are" The brunette moved his hand in lazy strokes, up and down until tears welled at the corners of Wade's eyes, moans suppressed by the shirt stuffed in his mouth.

 

"You got so hard just from me pushing you against _a wall_ " With his free hand Peter released his own erection, he couldn't remember the last time he was this fevered, this hard; it was difficult keeping his balance on his knees like this, but the surge of lust thrumming through his body more than made up for the discomfort.

 

God Peter never wanted this to end. He was in such a state of fuzzy edaciousness. He wanted so much but could give so little. It frustrated as much as it aroused him.

 

The added component of being so open, outside, where anyone could walk by and see them, only fueled the fire licking his lower stomach.

 

Peter's hand, sped up and twisting on the downstroke, let go of Wade's cock. The blonde practically wailed, begging around his makeshift gag. His eyes were so pleading; he was close Peter knew, could tell from how wet he was.

 

His fingers were sticky, slick from the precum, he hoped it would be enough.

 

Peter urged Wade to lift his hips, making a small chuffed sound as Wade complied. It was still troublesome, but with the blonde's ass slightly raised above the ground, he could press against the twitching ring of muscle, pulsing and hot under the pad of his digit.

 

His fears were confirmed by how difficult it was to breach Wade's body, he was woefully tight, nowhere near relaxed enough to allow entry. The same sinister voice that urged him to bite Wade's tongue spurred him into slipping his finger in, despite the way the muscles throbbed around him.

 

Wade yelped as Peter slid inside him, his insides forced to yield to the forceful intrusion. The older shook his head, struggling to convey what he was thinking and feeling. He said something around his gag, it could have been "no" or "hurts" Peter couldn't tell.

 

It must be uncomfortable if he was so insistent.

 

Still, it took herculean effort to leave that tight heat, but seeing how Wade instantly calmed, seemingly thrilled that Peter's hand was back on his cock, erased any mournful regrets that Peter couldn't fuck him that way.

 

The blonde whimpered as Peter stroked him with an almost unforgiving pace, his cheeks were flushed crimson, tears of pleasure and drool sliding down his chin. He was beginning to squirm, tilting his head back to bare his scarred throat to Peter's hungry gaze. Wade's Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed; he was so wet that he had almost soaked through the napkins Peter had pressed on his head.

 

"Are you gonna come Wade?" The brunette panted, and as close as he was, he let go of his own cock to balance himself properly. His knees were sore as all hell, gravel digging into his skin, he told himself that this was worth it.

 

Using his now free hand to rest back on Wade's trembling thigh, he nibbled and sucked a scorching line from Wade's throat to his clavicle, delighting in the lascivious cries Wade let out with each press of his lips.

 

"Hmm, I didn't forget how sensitive you are" Peter dipped lower on Wade's body, his breath ghosting over Wade's chest, his target obvious. Wade tremored, keening as Peter flicked the tip of his tongue over his nipple, tormenting the bud until it hardened.

 

And when Peter took it in his mouth, sucking as roughly as he dared, he knew it would drive Wade over the edge.

 

The blonde's hands nonsensically grabbed for something, anything, to hang on to as his orgasm ripped through him. They settled on the back of Peter's head, the overstimulation making him pull at Peter's mussed tresses. He was nearly sobbing, his body twisting as Peter continued to draw heavily on his nipple.

 

"Shhh" Peter gave a final nip at Wade's skin, "it's okay Wade, just feel it."

 

It seemed to take forever until Wade stopped threshing, finally going limp, his shirt falling from his mouth, soaked in saliva.

 

"Come here" Wade rasped out, voice raw from ceaseless moaning. "Come here baby boy, let me get you off."

 

Peter did not have to be told twice.

 

Wade situated himself on his knees, still shaking as he tucked his softening cock away. Leaving the soiled napkins in a bunched pile to be dealt with later.

 

At first, Peter did not quite catch on to what Wade intended, it took the blonde gesturing lewdly with his hands to fully comprehend.

 

He had dreamed of that mouth on his cock for a week, Peter was on his feet before Wade could even ask again.

 

Wade braced himself back against the wall, opening his mouth and playfully sticking his tongue out. The action proved more alluring than originally planned. Peter's hands were fisting Wade's spiky hair, pulling him forward and pressing his cock on his lips, knocking the sunglasses perched on top of his head to the ground.

 

Peter swore Wade had no gag reflex. The older took Peter down to the hilt almost immediately, the ribbed bar through his tongue caressed him in all the right places; rubbing the sensitive underside as he gulped around the intrusion.

 

The muscles of his esophagus softened to accommodate his length easily, and as Peter rocked his hips, Wade took each thrust as if he was born for it.

 

Wade hummed, obscenely moaning and swallowing around his cock as Peter fucked his throat, the wet sounds of him gagging spurring him further into his wanton haze.

 

Peter could only feel the throbbing of his cock, everything else fell away. He was groaning, and didn't care who heard; all he wanted was to come. to get even deeper in Wade's gullet. He was being too rough, he could tell from how Wade pushed back with his hands on Peter's hips.

 

The worst part was that Peter didn't care.

 

A few more brutal, punishing thrusts, and he was coming violently, the ragged sound of his breathing echoing in the narrow alley. The ripple and clutch of pleasure almost bringing him back down to his knees.

 

Wade did not spill a single drop of him, and when he swallowed, he even opened his mouth with a smug wink.

 

Peter dropped back down on his sore knees, arms wrapping around Wade's broader form. The blonde stiffened once more for a moment, then melted into the embrace.

 

"Best first date ever." His teasing voice hardly above a whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I start begging you guys for forgiveness for this stupid chapter being so late I just wanted to tell you all how much your comments mean to me. 
> 
> At the risk of sounding sappy, I'm not going to go into excruciating detail, but this is the first serious bit of writing I have done since having a very serious psychotic break, coupled with a suicide attempt and other fun junk. Anyway, knowing that I can still write, and that you guys are enjoying the story and that you can connect with the characters, and that this little story I'm writing has even helped some of you, means the world to me. And when I say thank you for that, I truly mean it. I can't thank you all enough. You all are legit the best thing in my life right now.
> 
> I have even gone back and re-read the comments and cried over them, I'm a big fat baby. I'm getting misty-eyed writing this thank you note. I suck. 
> 
> So getting back to the story...I hate this chapter. It just didn't want to be written! I started off strong and then a bunch of crap happened that erased one draft (my cat walked on my keyboard, my laptop overheated and shut down, a friend of mine thought it would be funny to fuck with the document...etc...)
> 
> And the sex scene didn't want to happen either! Something happens where I have it planned in my head and then it all goes to shit. It sucks, I need to work on that, I hate how awkward it feels. The tone of this chapter also jumped around too much for my liking, and I feel as if nothing happened. It feels like a waste of your time. I'm actually a little embarrassed by how badly this is written. 
> 
> My pop culture references are old as dirt.
> 
> I just -rolls down a hill while screaming- the next chapter will be better I swear! It will also not be a month late! I'm the worst. Help.


	8. Cause I never believed there was a heaven til I found you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Songs:
> 
> José González - Down the Line  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tZuC6y4eUo0
> 
> Sufjan Stevens- That dress looks nice on you  
> http://music.sufjan.com/track/the-dress-looks-nice-on-you
> 
> Patsy Cline-Walking after midnight  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xiKsAuv7O7c
> 
> Juice Newton-Angel of the morning (I'm sorry I had to)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTzGMEfbnAw
> 
> Incubus - Drive  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fgT9zGkiLig
> 
> Iron and Wine - Such Great Heights  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tCYWymG9fSs
> 
> Tw: Sexual content, minor descriptions of self harm and scars (very brief,) there is also food and eating in this chapter.
> 
> If you're unfamilar with X-Force, here is a refresher http://marvel.com/universe/X-Force as some of those characters appear in this chapter.

The Past

 

_Nathan Summers tried to tell himself that this was all worth it. That this is what his father did before him and if it was good enough for him, then he could soldier (pun intended) through._

_He always thought being a professor at such a prestigious university would command great respect from those around him, but his students were seemingly unaffected by his status. Did they not know how much tuition for that damn school cost? Did some of them even know that they were in a college classroom?_

_God, he hated how old he sounded when he said it, but he hated kids these days. He could only handle so much lighthearted tomfoolery before he snapped like a twig._

_He was there to teach, they were there to learn._

_Why couldn't they comprehend that?_

_He fumbled through his satchel, digging blindly for his keys. All he wanted was to collapse in bed. Nate had been awake since five that morning, and it was steadily approaching seven in the evening. He was ready to drop on the hot asphalt if need be._

_What gave him pause, however, was the sight of someone sprawled over the roof of his car. Whoever they were, they were seemingly unaffected the sight of the owner of the vehicle they were currently laying on staring them down like a bull about to charge._

_"Ah" Nathan decided to try and be amicable, the_ accursed _politeness pounded into him from years of military training rearing its ugly head "excuse me, could you please get off **the roof of my car**?"_

_Silence, the stranger took another drag from their cigarette and blew a near perfect smoke ring into the unseasonably warm spring air._

_Okay, so he would try again._

_" **Excuse me** " He was losing patience like a tree dropping leaves in autumn, he was too tired to start a huge fight, he was too damn tired to even care that this person had decided that his car was a good spot for a smoke break, he just wanted them off so he could go home._

_"Excuse me"_

_The person shifted position, crossing a leg over the other, still ignoring him. They flicked ash onto the ground and snuffed out the spent cigarette on the roof before lighting another._

_Nathan knew that a cigarette did not burn hot enough to damage the paint of his car, he knew that whomever this person was, they weren't targeting him in particular, but it still felt like a personal attack._

_The blatant disregard for personal property is what set him off._

_"I **said** " He reached out, grabbing the person by the boot and yanking, hard enough to pull them onto the hood of the car "excuse **me**!"_

_He immediately regretted his decision when he saw that the brat had headphones on, and was blasting music so loudly there was no way he could have heard him, despite his near-shouting._

_Nate stepped away, giving the startled child (he internally winced when he saw how young the person was) a chance to calm themselves. They were blonde, and dressed in[clothes ](http://www.polyvore.com/wade-chapter_eight_memory/set?id=207021203)so ragged and dirty he looked almost homeless. He couldn't have been much older than nineteen._

_"W-what the fuck man?" Nathan cocked an eyebrow at how raspy the child's voice was, he sounded much older than he looked. "You trying to give a dude a heart attack, the fuck I do to you?"_

_Nate was more than willing to make amends for scaring him, but he still wanted an apology from the teenager still sitting on the hood of his car; for wasting his time and showing such blatant disrespect for personal property._

_"Ah" Nate coughed, God this was so awkward "this is my car."_

_The teen angrily brushed the shaggy hair from his forehead, narrowing pale blue eyes at him in an attempt to appear tough. In reality, he looked more like a pissed off kitten than a rough and tumble delinquent "So? Don't see ya' name on it, Priscilla."_

_'For the love of' Was he being punished for some heinous crime in a past life? Why were immature children being dumped into his lap today?_

_"You have five seconds to get off my car before-_ Priscilla _?"_

_The blonde shrugged, pulling a knee to his chest, looking almost shyly at him "don't know ya' name, so...y'know, **Priscilla**."_

_Nathan decided to let that slide, he would pick his battles wisely from this moment on._

_"Okay great, now get off."_

_Nathan also decided, after seeing the smirk that spread across the blonde's face, to choose his words more carefully from this moment on._

_"Get off? Dunno man, that'll cost you" he snickered, as if he were clever for piecing together the perfectly set up innuendo "you do have that teacher money, though, wanna be my sugar daddy?"_

_Nathan swore he could hear the tenuous thread of his patience snapping. Blood was beginning to pound in his ears. His doctor had been getting onto him about his stress levels as of late; and he was sorely tempted to pull out his phone and record the remainder of this conversation, so that he could explain exactly what was causing him so much aforementioned stress._

_He didn't have much longer to deal with the brat, however, as almost immediately after he opened his mouth Nathan heard an angry voice call from across the parking lot._

_Mercy existed in the strangest places._

_"Wade!" The person yelling turned out to be James, a student from his class who often stayed late for football practice. Nathan had never been more grateful for overachieving athletes in his life._

_"'Sup chief Grand Cherokee?" The blonde, Wade, finally slid off the hood in an almost snakelike fashion. Grabbing his backpack as he went "just having a little pow wow with Priscilla over there."_

_Nathan admired James for many reasons, he was easily one of his favorite students, but he was forever impressed with how well James handled racism, and this was no exception._

_"Theresa has been looking everywhere for you." James crossed his arms over his broad chest and glared down at Wade as if he were nothing more than gum on his shoe. To most people that would be quite intimidating, yet Wade still grinned as if this were a huge joke, bouncing from foot to foot while humming a cheerful tune. "That **quick '** smoke break' you told her you were taking was over a half hour ago!"_

_Wade held up his hands, his Cheshire grin faltering for the first time at just how angry James sounded "dude slow your roll, I had to deal with homeboy over there giving me shit."_

_Nathan had been doing his best to stay out of the fray, knowing just how unprofessional it was to enter a scuffle between two students (was Wade a student? He had never seen him before...) but when Wade pointed at him, placing blame on him as if this whole fiasco was somehow partially his fault, Nate decided to speak up. Forgoing his usual politeness with reckless abandon._

_"This young man was sitting_ on _my car and when I asked him to move, he refused." Keeping his voice from wavering with rage was proving more difficult than he would have thought._

_Now Wade seemed genuinely offended "I didn't refuse you fucking **putz** , I didn't-"_

_James pushed Wade ahead, in the direction of the library "will you just go, god, why does Terry put up with you?"_

_Despite James' shoving, Wade held his ground, smirk back in place "What? Ya' jealous that Terry wants my dick and not yours?"_

_Theresa was another student of Nathan's, and truth be told he saw her almost like a surrogate daughter at times, and hearing Wade speak of her so crudely almost sent Nathan over the edge. He had to clench his teeth and count down from ten to still his racing heart._

_Maybe he sensed that he had crossed a line, because Wade immediately skipped away, Hello Kitty backpack slung over his shoulder, belting as he loped merrily across the parking lot "If you want to destroy my sweater, hold this thread as I walk awayyyy."_

_When both men had lost sight of the crude, waifish blonde, James immediately dropped down on the grass, face buried in his hands. "I can't" His voice, muffled by his palms, sounded so defeated that it made Nathan's heart ache "I don't understand, what does Terry see in him?"_

_Nathan sat beside his student, placing a sympathetic hand on James' shoulder "who was that exactly?" He prayed that Theresa wasn't romantically involved with him, whoever he was._

_The younger man snorted, tears of frustration and anger shimmering in the corners of his dark eyes "that walking fucking disaster was Wade Wilson, Terry's latest charity case." James struggled to regain his composure, taking several deep breaths before his shoulders slumped. "She's trying,_ _key word here is trying, to help him get his GED."_

_Nathan felt his nose crinkle in distaste, "of all the people to answer her ad" Terry had been trying to earn extra money in an attempt to fly back to Ireland to visit family she hadn't seen in quite some time. She had placed advertisements everywhere, stating that she was more than happy to tutor anyone._

_Nathan knew she was helping some fellow classmates, as well as some grade-school children, had he found out about Wade sooner, he would have never allowed him within two feet of Theresa._

_"The shi-crappiest thing about this is that she keeps making excuses for him" James stood, brushing off his clothes and attempting to smooth out his hair, "he acts like a total jerk and she always tells me that he isn't so bad and that he is great when you get to know him."_

_Nate scoffed, "he didn't even graduate from high school, and Terry can stand to tutor him? Who doesn't even have a high school diploma?"_

_James chuckled humorlessly, "he's a total moron, I don't see how she deals with it, he needs help with the most basic of things. He can hardly spell his own name"_

_"Well, she does want to be a grade school teacher, it's a good exercise in patience-"_

_Nathan noticed Wade standing behind James before the other man did._

_The blonde brushed past James without saying a word, reaching for the pack of cigarettes he had left behind_ on _Nathan's car. Wade's face was set in an emotionless mask, but there was a hardness to his eyes that gave him pause. Made him wonder what was going through his head._

_Wade's headphones were around his neck, and Nathan could hear what he had been[listening ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tZuC6y4eUo0)to._

 

I see problems down the line

 

I know that I'm right

 

I see darkness down the line

 

I know it's hard to fight

 

There was a dirt upon your hands

 

Doing the same mistake twice

 

Making the same mistake twice...

 

_Wade turned away, walking back towards the library without any of the gusto he had had before. But before he left, he murmured so quietly Nate almost didn't hear him._

_"I dropped out because I got taken away from my family, my dad beat me and it was too much of a hassle to switch schools."_

_Wade put his headphones back over his ears, but Nathan caught a small bit of the song before the parking lot went silent again._

 

Come on over

 

Be so caught up it's all about compromise

 

I see problems down the line

 

I know that I'm right

 

Don't let the darkness eat you up...

 

The Present

 

 

"I think I'll have...Just plain chocolate is fine please."

The waitress quickly jotted down their order, smiling over her notepad as Wade snuggled deeper into Peter's shoulder. They had been seated in a booth, with plenty of space on both sides, yet Wade had immediately slid in beside the brunette, giving him almost no breathing room. Peter was discovering new things about Wade with every passing moment, and his clinginess was something Peter honestly hadn't expected.

"I'll put this in for you two right away" She took their menus with a friendly grin before turning away, leaving the two young men alone in the quiet diner. They had luckily missed the lunch rush, and aside from several elderly couples chattering over pie and coffee, and a college student with papers strewn in front of her, they were alone.

That was fine by Peter, he had difficulty eating in front of others, and with fewer people around, it would be much easier for him to enjoy his food.

On each table, placed beside the menus, the sugar, and the salt; were coloring pages meant for children. A tin coffee can full of crayons accompanied the small vase of faux flowers and the caddy of jelly and jam. Wade had reached over and taken several pages, as well as the crayons that weren't worn down too much, and had begun coloring as soon as he had sat down. Peter had to gently prod Wade in the side to get him to pay attention to the menu and pick what he wanted.

Peter's order never changed, he almost always got the same thing; a bacon and swiss burger with stuffed mushrooms. Wade had skimmed the menu for maybe a minute before picking the lava cake sundae with extra whipped cream and hot fudge.

"I bring you to the finest diner in NYC, and you order ice cream" Peter chuckled, snatching the crayon from Wade's hand. He was in a teasing mood, most of the anxiety gone.

"Hey!" Wade crossed his arms in front of his chest and pouted (genuinely _pouted_ , making Peter's heart jump, how could someone be simultaneously so cute and so sexy? It seemed criminal.) "I didn't come here to be judged Petey" The younger man laughed and handed Wade back his crayon, pressing a kiss to his temple, "besides" Wade dropped his voice as he snatched his coveted Crayola "I'm always in the mood for junk food after getting frisky."

Peter felt a blush sink beneath his collar as he took a large swig of his root beer. He was still in a bit of a daze from the whole sordid incident, and hadn't taken the time to fully process what had happened. Truth be told he had expected to wake up in his post-orgasmic bliss and find that he had been dreaming the entire time, as he never believed he would be capable of something so seedy.

But no, he didn't wake up alone in bed sticky with sweat, frustrated and hard as a rock. He really _had_ jacked Wade off in an alley and received a blowjob right after. This is what his life was becoming.

Not that he was complaining.

The music on the jukebox switched over from the jaunty, high rolling tunes that the diner usually played during lunch; and made the subtle switch to the pre-dinner soundtrack. Mainly golden oldies with a bit of twangy folksy [country ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xiKsAuv7O7c)thrown in.

 

_I stop to see a weepin' willow_

 

_Cryin' on his pillow_

 

_Maybe he's cryin' for me_

 

_And as the skies turn gloomy_

 

_Night winds whisper to me_

 

_I'm lonesome as I can be..._

 

"I like it here" Wade murmured almost sleepily, leaning back onto Peter's shoulder "it's cute, kinda retro in a not on purpose kinda way."

Wade wasn't lying, Peter had visited Jack's many times over the last four years, and the most the diner had done to renovate was receive a fresh coat of paint. The tabletops were gouged with scratches and burns from a bygone era where smoking was allowed indoors. Some had carved initials of people who had most likely graduated years ago, people that neither of them would ever meet.

The bar stools at the lunch counter needed to be reupholstered, and the tiles (a classic black and white) were scrubbed clean yet scuffed from heavy foot traffic.

The booth the two of them had been seated in was cushioned in black, still squishy soft after all these years. Each table had the same minute white vase with a bouquet of plastic white daisies. The daily specials were scribbled on a blackboard behind the counter, where a small window showed the cooks talking and laughing in the kitchen.

"It is kind of the typical greasy spoon, but it's cool like that" Peter nuzzled Wade's hair, inhaling the scent of smoke and fruity sweet shampoo, "I thought you might like it."

Wade nodded, and Peter could feel him smiling against his shoulder "I'm just happy being here with you." The older man was practically purring, threading his fingers with Peter's under the table. His hands were calloused, rougher and larger than Peter's, but his grip was weaker, gentle and affectionate.

The brunette rubbed his thumb over the back of Wade's wrist; Peter he could feel the bumps and the ridges from the scar tissue like rivulets on his skin, and it was a sobering reminder of what lay under his clothes. What he was so desperate to hide.

When Peter slid his palm further up, slipping unnoticed under the leather of his jacket sleeve, exploring and searching while Wade dozed off on him, he felt the almost sandpapery texture of bandages on Wade's arm.

It shouldn't have surprised him to know that Wade had possibly hurt himself since he last saw him. After all, the marks he had seen were not old scars, they were fresh and angry and raw.

Logically he also knew that he hadn't been the cause of Wade's new injuries, but he couldn't help but feel as if he were to blame. Maybe if had gotten back to him sooner...

 

_[Maybe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTzGMEfbnAw)the sun's light will be dim_

 

_And it won't matter anyhow_

 

_If morning's echo says we've sinned_

 

_It was what I wanted now_

 

_And if we're victims of the night_

 

_I won't be blinded by the light..._

 

"Oh!" Wade cried, sitting back up and suddenly wide awake, "I love this song!"

He wriggled happily as the song reached the chorus, warbling along despite the glares he received from the other diners. "Just call me angel, of the morning, angel, just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby!" He was horribly out of tune, and much louder than he needed to be. Again Peter envied how little the blonde seemed to care about what others thought.

"Oh my God" Peter buried his face in his hands, amusement and mortification wrestling for control in his chest, "what am I going to do with you?" Now he was blushing for an entirely different reason.

The younger felt Wade wrap his arms back around him, and in that low purr said "welll I'm open for anything baby boy" he pressed his lips against Peter's ear, making him gasp "I'll let you do whatever you want, I'm yours." Wade raked his fingernails over Peter's knee, slowing his touch to squeeze the apex of his thighs and coming dangerously close to his groin.

Any and all rational thought came to a screeching halt, and Peter resisted the urge to direct Wade's hand higher on his body. The moment they had shared went from innocent to filthy so swiftly Peter almost couldn't catch up. The blood coloring his face dropped almost entirely to his crotch, leaving him shaky and uncertain of what to do.

He didn't have to dwell on the situation for long, as Wade pulled away as soon as the waitress returned with their food. She balanced the plates on the tray with a practiced ease that Peter couldn't help but admire.

They both thanked her as she left once again, promising that she would return in a moment to refill their drinks.

Wade's sundae took up a lot of space. It was meant to share between two people, but from the way the blonde curled protectively around the dish with a whine when Peter tried to snag the cherry on top, he guessed Wade wasn't the sharing type.

"You ain't getting my cherry mister" Wade stuck his tongue out, the ring threaded through catching the light. Peter felt a stab of guilt when he saw a bit of dried blood caked to the metal. He made a mental note to be gentler the next time they kissed.

The two of the were silent for a while, the only noise the sound of chewing and slurping. Wade was a bit of a messy eater, but Peter couldn't help but find it adorable, especially when Wade looked at him with a glob of whipped cream on his nose. He was like a kitten.

"Jesus Christ" Peter swiped his finger over Wade's face, making the older man laugh with a huge smile showing almost all of his teeth. "You're the most ridiculous person I've ever met." peter yelped as Wade surged forward, rubbing his messy, chocolate-stained mouth on Peter's cheek in a sloppy kiss and sing-songing "But you like me anyway Peteyy!"

' _Yeah_ ,' Peter thought as he battered Wade away with a laugh more genuine than he could remember in quite some time. ' _I really do_.'

  
***

"Truth, or dare?"

"Hmmm," Wade took another deep, almost painfully long drag off of his cigarette before answering, directing the puff of smoke as far away from Peter as he could manage. "Truth, baby boy."

They had been wandering the streets for an hour, unsure of what to do to kill time. Neither one wanted the date to end, but both of them were broke and had no idea how to successfully loiter. Thankfully Wade had insisted they split the bill, giving Peter a bit of breathing room to make it through till payday.

Eventually, the two of them had found a small, almost abandoned park off the beaten path. Aside from a group of teens playing basketball, and several young children doodling with sidewalk chalk, they were alone and had plenty of privacy.

The playground equipment was a bit older, and tagged with graffiti, but the kids didn't seem to mind and played freely. Wade kept looking over his shoulder, smiling at the loud, raucous children pushing each other and drawing what appeared to be a large, rainbow flower complete with a grinning sun and buzzing bees.

"You like kids don't you Wade?" The brunette kicked his legs, moving his body on the seat of the swing he was occupying. It was Wade's idea to hang out on the swingset, insisting that the cliche was too funny to pass up. Peter agreed completely, wondering what sort of picture they made; two adults holding hands and making out on the swing set, like a scene from a nineties teen movie.

Wade finished off his cigarette, snuffing out the burning end on the bottom of his boot. "Yeah I do, I love em" He put the butt back inside the pack, not wanting to leave his trash behind "they're the best." His voice had become gruff, almost brusque.

Peter couldn't help but notice that kids seemed to like Wade just as much. As soon as they had sat down, a young girl, maybe seven years old, had run up wanting to touch the spikes on his jacket. And despite the rough and pugnacious image Wade projected, he had beamed and leaned forward, letting the girl poke and laugh to her heart's content.

Wade was silent for a bit, seemingly forgetting about their game as he stared off into the distance with his mouth set in a hard line. With each passing moment Peter could feel the anxiety begin to claw its way back into his stomach, he wondered what he had said to annoy Wade and meticulously racked his brain for every interaction he had with him today.

Peter resisted the urge to apologize, knowing that begging for forgiveness for a transgression he couldn't remember might not end well. His fingers were soon back in his mouth, and his nails chewed further down, almost to the quick.

Peter almost couldn't take it anymore, when Wade finally spoke again, "truth huh baby boy? Can I tell ya' about something?" He sounded uncharistically sheepish, looking at Peter through his bangs with wide, deer-like eyes.

All at once a million scenarios played in Peter's mind, so quickly it physically hurt. _'Is he seeing someone? Is he married? Does he not like me? If he didn't like me then why did he_...'

"Its...Okay, it's like this" Wade breathed heavily, speaking as if he were ripping off a metaphorical band-aid; fast and with the urge to just get it over with.

"I have...A kid, a daughter" Wade shifted, pulling his wallet from his back pocket to show Peter a picture hidden inside.

It must have been an older photo, as Wade looked so _young_ , almost like a child himself. His hair was longer, even messier than it was now. He had a ring through his eyebrow and a stud in his upper lip. They were making ridiculous faces, looking so happy and carefree.

The girl he was posing with was absolutely beautiful. She didn't look like Wade, at least not at first glance, but the mischievous gleam in her deep brown eyes and the almost crooked grin on her face were definitely inherited from her father. Her skin and her hair were dark, like rosewood. A stark contrast to Wade's pale skin and blonde tresses.

"She doesn't live with me" Wade smiled fondly at the picture before putting it away "she lives with her adopted family, but I visit her on Thursdays." He ran his hands through his hair, face scrunched while he worried his lower lip. "Bio mom isn't in the picture, it was a one night stand sorta deal, haven't seen her in years."

"I'm sorry I'm kinda just dumping this on you like ' _oh hey, by the way, this is a thing_ '" He made jazz hands in the air, avoiding Peter's gaze. "I just wanted to tell you now, before..."

The unspoken hung in the air like a cloud swollen with rain ' _before you get in too deep_.'

Wade gripped his injured arm with a shaking hand, digging his fingers into his skin as subtly as he could. Despite Peter noticing, and his desire to stop him, there was just too many emotions to sort through to really worry. Peter didn't know _where_ to begin.

"I mean" Peter cleared his throat, his brain so jumbled the pieces felt almost jagged in his aching skull "I'm _not_ , I'm not like, it's not a _dealbreaker_." Peter wasn't even sure if he was being truthful, he had no idea _how_ to feel.

It wasn't as if they were serious yet, this was their first date after all. But if they _did_ become serious, or as the kids these days called it "went steady" then Peter would have to deal with the added responsibility of sharing Wade with a child.

"It doesn't change how I feel about you Wade" Peter extended his hand, silently asking for Wade's own to hold. "I-I appreciate you telling me, though, and" He struggled to put as much comfort and reassurance in his grasp as he could manage "let's just take this one day at a time, okay?"

' _I'll deal with it later_ ' Peter immediately began shoving the consternation to the back of his brain, where all of his overwhelming worries went to rot. ' _I'll cross that bridge when I get to it_...'

The older noticeably relaxed, and the warmth returned to his eyes "you're something else baby boy, you know that?" Wade twisted his body in an effort to face Peter better, to become closer; it was an awkward angle, but Wade was determined to bridge the gap between them "you're so... _fuck_ you're amazing."

Wade brought his hand to the back of Peter's head, pulling forward as softly as he could for a kiss. There was a moment of hesitation, giving the brunette time to retreat if he didn't want to; but Peter's mouth was on Wade's before either one could draw back.

Neither one made an effort to deepen the chaste show of affection, and instead seemed content to simply let their bodies connect. The feeling was almost sugary sweet as fondness rose in Peter's chest, dropping the bottom out of his stomach and sending tingles down his back and legs.

What made them stop was the sound of over exaggerated gagging and childish shrieking.

The kids who had been playing and working on their street art had stopped, and saw the two of them snogging on the swingset. The sight of them smitten with each other a detestable scene. They were obviously unimpressed as they screamed "yuckkkk!" A young girl with brightly colored beads strung through her box braids stuck her tongue out, grabbing onto her friends for support "ickyyyy!"

Wade was laughing harder than Peter had ever seen before, he clutched his stomach and struggled to stay upright on his swing. "Kissing is not gross you little monsters!" The blonde still held Peter's hand in his own, and that tiny bit of contact spurred Peter into speaking up. "Your parents kiss too you know!"

The resulting wails of disgust made both of them snicker, and Peter couldn't help but feel relieved. The worry that had dogged him easing a minuscule amount in his brain. Kids weren't that bad after all.

***

"I think we're alone now, there doesn't seem to be anyone _arounddd_ , I think we're alone now, the beating of our hearts is the only _soundd_ "

"Wade shh!" Peter elbowed the giggling blonde standing behind him, hard enough to get his point across but not enough to injure him. "My dorm is strict as hell, I'm not supposed to have people over."

Of course, the rule was rarely, if ever, enforced, but Peter was not exactly a 'rebel,' he never broke the rules, not even the ridiculous ones about noise or laundry or the microwave having to be wiped clean after every use.

Yet he just couldn't bring himself to say goodbye to Wade. They had continued to torment the children with their lovey-dovey actions for awhile, and resumed their aimless meandering, window shopping on one street and people watching on another (bewildered tourists were always good for a laugh) and then they stopped for cheap convenience store coffee which they drank slowly, avoiding the inevitable conclusion.

Neither one had the money to spend on the movies, or anything to really extend their date in a "normal" fashion, so they had attempted to say goodbye at the subway station, which turned into a ten minute make out session on a bench that only made parting ways that much more difficult.

Peter jiggled the doorknob rougher than necessary, because the lock always stuck _no matter what_ , and opened the door slowly, breathing a sigh of relief to see that Harry was still away. Wade would be so much more comfortable with just him; Harry was a nice young man, and never unpleasant, but Wade was surprisingly reserved around people he had never met.

"Well, this is it" Peter wished he had the time to clean or hide all of his dorky figurines or something, but Wade didn't seem to mind. If anything he was looking around the cramped room with an expression bordering on fascination. "This is _casa del Parker_."

It was a standard [dorm](http://williamsonsource.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/dorm-room.jpg), with a single bed on either side of a desk the two of them were always fighting over, as it was by the window and had an easy to get to wall socket. Peter's side of the room was always messier, a bit more lived in than Harry's. The walls above and around Peter's bed were decorated with framed pictures of his family and friends, bands he liked, or collectible movie posters that he had acquired over the years. Johnny hadn't bothered to straighten out his bedclothes after he left, so his sheets lay in a rumpled heap on the floor.

When he first moved in, he had strung tiny white lights around his headboard, at first because it seemed to be what _everyone_ did, but he maintained the look year after year and room after room, it created a nice ambiance.

"This place is nicer than my apartment holy crap" Wade removed his sunglasses and toed off his combat boots, revealing black socks, before hopping into Peter's bed, wiggling into a comfortable position. He moaned almost obscenely as he snuggled "sooo nice."

Peter tossed his backpack into the designated corner with a smirk "better be nice for how much I'm paying for it, I'm gonna have to sell my blood, my sperm, and my first born son to pay off my fucking loans."

"I'm not saying prostitution buttt" Wade did a wiggly hand gesture as Peter crawled in beside him "I know someone if you wanna get in on that."

"Shut up and cuddle me you doofus."

"Well aren't you a sweet talker" The blonde lifted up Peter's arm to slip underneath, forcing himself into the position of little spoon before the other man could object. "You could charm the granny panties off a nun you rascal."

"I can't afford therapy so please stop talking" It was a struggle to reach the bedside cabinet where most of the odds and ends were kept, but he managed to snag the remote to his stereo, balanced precariously on his dresser, without squishing Wade too much. "A stereo? Holy shit ya' got a stereo?" Peter puffed in annoyance as Wade encircled his arms around his neck, raining kisses on his cheek and jaw "ya' gonna play me some sexy jams with a Z baby boy? I'm so fucking hot for you right now." In actuality, his stereo wasn't something to be marveled at, it was older than dirt, and only a couple of the buttons still worked, but Wade seemed impressed, and that was all that mattered to him.

Peter couldn't remember what CDs he actually _had_ in the damn thing, and he prayed that it wasn't something embarrassing like The Prince Of Egypt soundtrack or a books on tape reading of Stardust. Wade didn't seem like the type to laugh at someone else's expense, but Peter still nervously chewed his thumbnail and he flipped through the tracks.

 

_[And](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fgT9zGkiLig)I can't help but ask myself how much I'll let the fear_

 

_Take the wheel and steer_

 

_It's driven me before_

 

_And it seems to have a vague, haunting mass appeal_

 

_But lately I am beginning to find_

 

_That I should be the one behind the wheel..._

 

"Oh my god I love this song" Wade tightened his grip, knocking Peter off balance so that he was on top of him with an inelegant thud "this is my fucking jam."

"Wade _everything_ is your jam" The brunette gave him a quick peck on the lips, sitting up long enough to remove his over shirt, "a chihuahua barked at you in the park and you said the same thing."

"I like to support indie artists Peter" Wade woohooed loudly as Peter unbuttoned his shirt collar, making it easier to pull over his head "I have the entire Kesha discography on my phone if ya' wanna make this interesting."

"How about no thank you" He tugged Wade up with him, so that his back was pressed against the headboard. Wade's arms promptly went back around his neck, making sappy smooching noises as he kissed his forehead down to his chin "look at my pretty baby boy" The blonde cooed, and the honesty in his tone made Peter blush "you're the sweetest thing ever." Peter yelped as Wade took his nose in his mouth, giving it a tiny bite "ya' got the cutest nose ever FYI."

Peter was at a loss for what to say, compliments always left him ambiguously flabbergasted, as he was just that unused to receiving them; so in place of words he just gripped the back of Wade's head and brought their lips together as softly as he could. Almost immediately Wade allowed Peter entrance, opening himself somewhat demurely as his tongue traced the course of his mouth.

Wade was a shy kisser, always retreating and making Peter chase after the unique taste of his tongue, sometimes bitter, sometimes metallic. His hands left the back of Wade's delicate skull to cup his cheek, while the other rested on his shoulder. Peter groaned, Wade's skin was so warm, and he smelled so sweet.

Peter was the first to draw back, pulling away to pant quietly and regain some of his breath, a thin string of saliva still connecting their mouths. Wade mewled, letting out a small " _guh_ " before resting his forehead against Peter's, he was so _timid_ at times, it was a shock to the younger man, and he was unsure of what to do in those moments.

Wade fiddled with the zipper of his jacket, looking as if he was debating internally as he tugged and released. He was visibly nervous, unclear of what to do and glancing at Peter for guidance.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to" Peter brushed his fingers over Wade's warm cheek, and he leaned into the touch like a cat, eyes closed as he savored the contact.

"I'm just, I know it isn't exactly _pretty_ -"

"I know" Peter coughed, going to withdraw his hand, but Wade kept leaning on his palm "I know its...Wade, I don't _care_ about them, you're still you okay?"

Wade scoffed somewhat bitterly as he got off the bed, "that's a crock a' horseshit and you know it." There was a pause, and then he turned back around with an expression that was an unusual mix of apprehension and persistence. "Okay...Okay, so what I'm going to do is, I'm gonna take off my clothes, and when you want me to stop, say so, kay?"

"I don't feel comfortable doing that" Peter felt vaguely alarmed at the suggestion that _he_ tell Wade when to stop, and he wondered again what the hell went on in Wade's head if this was his idea of a good solution. "How about this, you take off what you want, and I just enjoy the view?"

"Ya' want a good view go back outside" The older quipped fiercely, his brows drawn together as he continued to agonize, "if ya' want...I'll do that, but..But don't laugh _okay_?"

Peter thought Wade was joking at first, but the imploring tone in his voice made Peter's chest twinge, "Fuck Wade I would never do that to you, or _anyone_ , Jesus." He wanted to ask what kind of people he had been with if _that_ was a concern, but decided that opening old wounds was not something to be done right now.

He had never seen Wade's bare skin, at least not all of it, and the idea that he would finally get to was equal parts daunting and captivating. Peter knew that the scars were there, he knew that they covered him and only became worse the more they were hidden, but he couldn't bring himself to care about that. Not right now. He wanted to see _Wade_ , see all of him, every inch of his body, so he could touch and taste and let Wade know that despite it all, he wanted him.

The balmy, sunny afternoon had shifted into a chilly evening, so Wade had zipped up his jacket, and Peter had nearly forgotten about his battered abdomen. He winced, wanting to ask but feeling as if his hands were tied behind his back. He just wanted to sit Wade down and ask him what was wrong, what he needed. There was so much he felt he needed to say.

Except for the dull glow of his fairy lights, the room was dim, casting Wade in half shadow. It dissolved the rigid edges of his body, giving him a sort of fragility that obscured as well as highlighted. The leather made a dull thud as it hit the floor, and the cute little crop top quickly followed suite.

Wade crossed his arms in front of his chest, his cheeks were sheets of scarlet and he was struggling to appear more flippant than he was.

All Peter wanted was to touch him, his fingers itched as he imagined just how silky his scarred skin must feel; how hot and how sensitive he knew he was.

" _Fuck_ Wade you're beautiful."

Peter's voice was barely more than a quiet rasp, he didn't recognize the sound of it. There was something so _frustrating_ yet so arousing about having no control over what parts of Wade he could see. He wanted to just rip all of Wade's remaining clothes off but instead he gripped the blankets under him in an iron grasp, struggling to keep his hands away from his crotch.

Possibly spurred forward by Peter's obvious approval, Wade wriggled his shorts down his slim hips, kicking them aside unceremoniously. His mousy gaze finally met Peter's own, predatory glare, he visibly swallowed.

Wade took a final, deep breath, working the thick red cotton of his leggings off his body. He had bent down to pull them off his foot, nearly tripping as he did so. Yet it did not break the almost hypnotic trance the blonde had Peter in. He stood up, the flush had sunk down his neck, and he had nibbled his lip bloody.

With all of his clothes gone, Peter could see almost every scar on his body. They slashed across his chest and his abdomen. Snaking down his long legs and beneath the areas still obscured by fabric. His arm was wrapped in a thick layer of bandages, and some small blotches of rusty-colored blood had shown through.

But that wasn't what Peter was so entranced by. What had him gawking was _Wade_ , Wade's _skin_ and his body and _all of him_ , refulgent and raw and perfect.

Although he was trim and almost sinewy, he wasn't skinny. He had an almost feminine curve to his waist that tapered down to seemingly endless legs, clad in black socks that went almost to the tops of his thighs. Wade was a strange mix of grace and power, all harsh lines and delicate arches.

What caught Peter's attention soon after, were the cute, red [panties ](http://i.ebayimg.com/00/s/NzY4WDEwMjQ=/%24\(KGrHqJ,!ioE6I1Wf!JEBOseN8fwjw~~60_35.JPG)that Wade was wearing, and he admonished himself for not noticing in the alley. Granted, he hadn't removed almost any of Wade's clothes then, but how could he had missed _those_? The sweet black lace with an adorable little bow; like Wade was a gift, to him, _for_ him.

"You're seriously the sexiest person I've ever been with" Peter's mouth was so dry he had to work saliva down his throat just to talk. "I just- _God_ Wade, look at you."

Wade shifted uneasily on his feet, still blushing under Peter's intense stare, "I'm-I'm happy you approve" he then quickly threw himself at the younger, lifting his legs over his lap, making the two of them flounder to get comfortable. Peter's back dug painfully into the wall, he could care less.

With Wade positioned like this, he had unlimited access to his neck, and immediately latched his mouth to the vulnerable flesh under his jaw. Peter raked his teeth across the velvety, burning skin, sucking and biting until Wade was shivering and his breath came in desperate little huffs.

Wade squirmed, gasping when Peter grabbed onto his waist to hold him in place, pressed viciously to the hardness straining against the rough denim of his jeans. "Ah," Wade rolled his hips in earnest, struggling to get enough friction. "Y-you're, _guh_ , you're really into this huh?"

Peter gave Wade's throat one last, searing lick before he even bothered to answer "into what? You?" Wade gave a strangled cry as Peter bucked his hips, driving his erect cock against the curve of Wade's ass "because yeah, _I really want to get into you_."

The punishing grip on the blonde's waist tightened as Peter began moving Wade's body against his; the rhythm was slow, almost languid, with just enough traction to drive them both crazy. All of their encounters had been so rushed, with no time to actually truly enjoy what was happening.

Peter wanted that to change, and it wanted it to change right now.

' _I'm yours_ ' That is what Wade had whispered in his ear so teasingly at the diner, full of promises that made his head swim.

' _I'm yours_.'

"Mine" Peter growled, grabbing Wade's silky blonde hair and smashing their lips together, coarse and dirty and full of teeth. " _Mine_."

They broke apart just enough for Wade to whimper, so pliable and coy and dutifully submissive. "Yours, I'm yours, Peter."

' _I'm yours_.'

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haaahhhh remember when I said the next chapter wouldn't take a month to come out? Remember that? 
> 
> I suck. 
> 
> I am so sorry my updates have been so spotty! I still love this story soo much I just do not have the spoons to write as much as I would like to. My energy levels have been low as dirt lately and it's cramping my style big time.
> 
> Also heyy more Cablepool! We're getting closer to Nate's permanent appearance in the story, how awesome is that? I've been re-reading my old Cable and Deadpool issues to get myself hyped up for that. 
> 
> I'm sorry I wrote Wade as kind of a dickbag in the flashback to when he and Nate first met, but lets be real here in the olden days Wade wasss kind of a dickbag. I still love Joe Kelly Deadpool way more than I should, hes amazing. But he was not exactly a cuddly fellow, no matter how much I want to cuddle him (anyone else want to give Joe Kelly Deadpool a hug btw? He just looks so snuggly.) 
> 
> I'm sorry if like, the idea of eating in a cheap diner isn't fun to anyone else. To me, because I grew up poor as dirt and still am, that was as high class as dates got. Jack's is based on an actual diner that is really popular in my neck of the woods (only it's called Bob's) and yeah it's a run down hole in the wall but when you're poor you look at things a lot differently. To me that's romantic. I'm weird.
> 
> I have a lot of good memories associated with the song "Drive," once upon a time I was engaged and that was going to be our first dance. Her and I didn't work out but I still get the warm fuzzies when I listen to it. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for the comments! You are all the absolute best and I can't thank you enough for all of the kind words and kudos and encouragement. I still like to re-read them just because they make me so unbelievably happy. I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me. 
> 
> The next chapter will NOT be so late! I'm not letting myself fall behind. 
> 
> Until next time! 
> 
> http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Et_yw3xo9MY/T9EW4Z_OigI/AAAAAAAAC0w/d7azQzNA1WU/s400/cat-hugs-stuffed-animal-gif.gif


	9. Brief Hiatus

Hey Guys.

 

I know it has been awhile, about a month and a half, and I haven't updated. Also, my updates have been sluggish. 

 

Please don't take this as an excuse, because it isn't, but it is an explanation. 

 

A bit of background, I have Bipolar I (rapid cycle because I'm just so extra) and my moods take a hugeee nosedive in about mid September. This means I'm a sad sack with no spoons who can't really do much of anything besides whine. So as you can tell it's cramping my creativity big time. 

 

I want this to be a genuine story, I know it's just a fic and I'm putting way too much into it, but I want what I write to be heartfelt, and right now I don't feel like I'm in the mindset to really give you guys what you deserve, which is a well written story that is actually worth reading. 

 

Long story short I'm taking a wee break from writing this, I'll be back in December, no later.  I took a request fic that I'm currently finishing, and I might write a wee bit, but nothing major for a bit, I just want to step away. 

 

Thank you so much for reading, I will see you all again soon! 

 

[XOXOXOXOXOXO](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m9qdwnZpsX1qitunwo1_500.gif)

 

 


	10. Heal me up again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Songs: 
> 
> Nicole Dollanganger - Observatory Mansions  
> https://nicoledollanganger.bandcamp.com/track/observatory-mansions
> 
> The Front Bottoms - Legit Tattoo Gun  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nuKKZKhJJV8
> 
> Dandelion Hands - Goodnight/acid dreams  
> https://dandelionhands.bandcamp.com/track/goodnight-acid-dreams
> 
> Honey Cub - Borderline  
> https://honeycub.bandcamp.com/track/borderline
> 
> Teenage Kitchen - NAOMI DAY  
> https://teenagekitchen.bandcamp.com/track/naomi-day
> 
> Titanic Sinclair- I don't cry  
> https://teenagekitchen.bandcamp.com/track/naomi-day
> 
> Tw: Self-harm, descriptions of PTSD related flashbacks, suicidal ideation, mildly graphic gore, and disordered eating. 
> 
> Thank you everyone who has been so patient and supportive through the hiatus!

Over the years, Wade had grown quite accustomed to waking up in strange beds. Usually, the first thing on his mind was not where he was, but how quickly he could get a cigarette in his hand and some alcohol down his gullet.

 

He made no effort to move from his spot, snuggled in Peter's arms with their legs tangled like tree roots that had grown too close together. The sheets were twisted around him tight enough to cause discomfort, but he still just couldn't bring himself to get up. He wanted to stay like this for as long as possible.

 

When was the last time he had woken up feeling so peaceful? So at home? Wade shifted so that he could press his face against Peter's chest, breathing in the scent of clean laundry, soothing lavender, and the heady aroma of recent sex.

 

Peter was just so nice, it was almost unreal. He was kind and considerate, taking his time to touch and tease and acquaint himself with every inch of his body. It was slow and sweet as honey and almost made him cry, because he couldn't remember the last time someone treated him like that, like he was special and his body wasn't just a means to an end.

 

Peter hadn't fucked him, Wade had asked (begged, but that was not the point) Peter to make him completely his. But Peter quietly refused, looking away with something strange hidden behind his eyes.

 

' _I'm not ready for that yet...I'm sorry_.'

 

Wade would be a liar if he said that he didn't feel the slightest bit hurt from the polite rejection, and although he had dropped the subject as swiftly as he could in the moment, Peter's rejection ate at him; flies feasting on a sugar cube.

 

He was used to being unwanted; he didn't like it, but who was he to argue fate? That had always been his place in the world, Wade was just something to be used and discarded; chewed up, spit out, covered in bite marks and saliva. He was the equivalent of a cum-stained tissue.

 

Yet Peter, beautiful, pure, kind, sweet, sweet, Peter, still desired him.

 

He knew he didn't deserve his attention, he knew that eventually Peter would wise up and leave, finding someone who was actually worthy of him. But until that day came, Wade would selfishly bask in the warmth of his affection, committing every detail of him to his memory to hold onto to, to give him something to keep him going.

 

Wade remembered everyone who left him.

 

According to Peter's wall clock, it was fifteen after eight, so they hadn't been asleep for long. Both of them had eventually collapsed from exhaustion around three in the morning; Wade had tried to leave, but Peter refused to let him, holding steadfastly onto his waist with an almost pleading expression.

 

' _Stay_ ' He had murmured, face buried in Wade's shoulder blade, ' _it's late, just spend the night here_.'

 

Wade was never one to refuse those he loved.

 

So he lay silently, hardly moving, scarcely breathing, just enjoying the feeling of Peter's arms around him. Warmed by the almost sepia glow of early autumn sunlight. Like a scene from a movie, a movie about a normal person and their normal life, where they were safe and loved and appreciated. Where nothing hurt and he could be happy.

 

After quite some time had passed, the desire to have a cigarette trumped how badly he wanted to stay in Peter's arms. And while he had no qualms about smoking in his own bed in his shitty apartment, a classy joint like Empire State might not appreciate ash stains on the sheets and burn holes in the mattress.

 

' _The fuck are my clothes_?' Although Wade had no one to actually hide from, he still shuddered at the idea of someone seeing him like this; naked and vulnerable in one sock with hickeys spattering his neck and bruises dotting his thighs.

 

Slipping away as quietly as he could, pressing a small kiss to Peter's forehead as he went, Wade dug around the bed for his underthings. He found his other stocking flung over the headboard; there was a rip in the nylon which made him groan 'these were my nice ones...' And Wade found his panties half way across the room, almost onto Peter's roommates' side of the dorm. That shouldn't have amused him as much as it did, but Wade always did have an odd sense of humor.

 

The bandages around his arm needed to be changed; as rusty red splotches had blossomed over the rough fabric, no doubt the wound had been irritated by Peter gripping his arm, or by Wade just not being careful.

 

After a quick rifle through his jacket pockets, he found the minute roll of bandages he had stashed, 'in case of an emergency.'

 

' _ **In case Peter ditched you? Or didn't show up? Wouldn't be the first time hmm**_?'

 

Wade really didn't like hurting himself in public; it was too risky, it was too messy. There was a chance of something going horribly wrong. If he got too worked up he could slice too deep, and then what? When he cut himself in the sanctity of his home, if something went fubar, he could manage it on his own terms, without a bunch of nosy good samaritans trying to tell him what to do.

 

He hissed between tightly clenched teeth as he worked the bandages from his skin, carefully, slowly, as the blood had dried overnight and the clots fused to the open wound; removing the thick cloth was not unlike ripping off a truly hellacious band aid. He couldn't pull or tug too harshly, he didn't want to tear the fragile scab that had begun to form, crusted a vile shade of oxidized brown and thick, syrupy yellow. The cut was having a difficult time closing, and while he normally didn't care if his cuts became infected, he now actually had a reason to care, because of Peter.

 

Wade had sat on the floor with his back to the younger man, and as he toiled he anxiously glanced over his shoulder, ensuring that Peter was still asleep and would not wake up to such a gruesome display. Luckily for him, Peter was dead to the world and had barely moved since Wade had departed.

 

Peter was so lovely when he slept, cherubic, like a Renaissance oil painting. The brunette belonged in a museum, displayed amongst the ancient artifacts and the marble statues; it made Wade's chest flutter. The parasites and slithering insects that normally flourished under his skin had grown papery wings, had become butterflies, or moths. Peter turned him into something beautiful.

 

The soiled bandages were easily hidden in his jacket pocket.

 

Wade stood again, wincing as his body cried out from the strain. His stomach churned, acid tumbling his guts like a rotary rock. His insides still hurt and stung from...The incident...And while Wade was practically a virtuoso at ignoring his body's needs and wants, the low-grade ache that had settled between his thighs had been reignited by last nights 'activities.'

 

It was abundantly clear that Peter had never been on the receiving end before, but what he lacked in finesse he made up for in sheer enthusiasm. He was a bit rough, and while usually it was nothing Wade couldn't take; if it weren't for his preexisting injuries it would not have even been a concern. The odd, unbidden stroke of boldness that had caused Wade to say no to Peter in the alley had seemingly rolled over and died, he lacked the nerve to ask Peter to slow down or stop when the pleasure tipped into pain.

 

' _ **Laying still and taking it? You're good at that aren't you**_?'

 

He pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes, rubbing the remaining traces of sleep from his lids. His palms came away flicked in glittery black.

 

' _Oh yeah_ ,' Wade had forgotten that he put on a tiny bit of makeup, just enough to emphasize his eyes. Peter liked his eyes, it was one of the things he complimented him on the first time they met. So a coat of mascara and a bit of white smudged on his water line, and even Wade himself thought he looked a bit prettier. He had also covered up the dark shadows that always seemed to stay plastered to his face, regardless of how much sleep he got.

 

' _Speaking of sleep_ ' God he was exhausted, Wade hadn't slept since his bizarre mini-coma in the bathroom during Francis' fun little visit. Wade never slept much anyway, and the brief reprieve of unconsciousness had served him well in dealing with the flashbacks. He was far too nervous to try and sleep after Peter and him decided to meet up, he had spent the hours in between going through every stitch of clothing he owned, trying to put something together that made him look a little less disgusting than he usually did. There was also the shower he had taken, which was a three-hour ordeal where he scrubbed his skin bloody and nearly had a panic attack when he came to the sick realization that he would never smell good or nice.

 

Wade always felt dirty, that was a sensation he had just learned to accept, but he had hoped that maybe he would at least smell clean. But no, he was still reeking of blood and sweat and...other things, even after the hot water ran out and he had huddled in a corner of the tub. Back against the wall like an orphan in a flood.

 

Peter didn't need anything to look smell nice. He was just naturally beautiful, Wade couldn't help but wonder how that just _happened_ to some people. Wade had been saddled with the worst of his parent's features and wound up looking like a trainwreck. And that was not even mentioning the scars.

 

Wade wrapped a protective arm around his torso, shivering in the early morning chill that perforated the room. He was excruciatingly aware of how naked he was, how exposed, and immediately wanted something on his body.

 

His own clothes were about as appealing as a sack full of dead fish, but he had nothing to change into. Wade hadn't anticipated Peter inviting him to spend the night. He hadn't even anticipated half of what had happened yesterday, it seemed like some sort of fever dream.

 

Shoveled on the floor beside Peter's dresser was a pile of clothes, Peter was smaller than him but maybe he had a freakishly oversized shirt or something.

 

Pawing through the less-than-fresh-smelling heap, he found a gray hoodie with the ESU logo blazed across the front in chipped plastic. It was just a bit of thin fabric that even sported several small holes due to laundromat abuse, but it looked big enough to fit.

 

Wade huffed a sigh of relief when he discovered that yes, it indeed did fit, and covered him to the tops of his thighs.

 

' _Thank God_ ' Instantly he began to breathe a bit better, the fluffy interior soothing his cold, raw skin.

 

Peter's dorm had two large windows above the chintzy desk, buried under miscellaneous papers and snack bar wrappers. Unsure of what was important and what was simply clutter, Wade tried to make a tidy pile in the corner, whether he succeeded or not was up to Peter's ideas of cleanliness.

 

Wade was beginning to feel a bit more like himself as ash slithered down his throat, curling past his teeth. He rubbed the back of his neck, stretching out the sore muscles corded tight from strain.

 

From where Wade sat on the desk, he had a somewhat decent view of the campus; he would have assumed that on a Sunday the students would be sleeping in, but the lush, carefully manicured grounds were teeming with life. Some were situated on blankets, and others were running or playing impromptu games of tennis or baseball. Combined with the traces of laughter he could discern from the other rooms, along with music and talking and muffled curses from those who overslept, everything melded into a harmonious white noise. Punctured occasionally by Peter's adorable little snorts and snores.

 

' _I never wanna go home_...'

 

He tried with everything he had to keep that horrible thought at bay, but he couldn't live a lie (well, live more lies than usual) eventually Peter was going to wake up and Wade would have to leave.

 

' _Selfish_ ' He was lucky as it was to even be here now, and he wanted to extend an already generous invitation?

 

What would hurt less? Waiting to be told to leave? Or just running now, before Peter woke up?

 

But Wade was never the first to leave, no matter what happened, he never left. He just never could tear himself away from those he loved. It was always the other's doing that parted them. Although they usually took a part of him along, whether they realized it or not.

 

Nobody really ever treated his heart with a lot of care, maybe they just thought he didn't have feelings to hurt? But being treated as if he were something subhuman was his normal. It always had been; Wade had tried to fight it at first, but he eventually grew weary, and just resigned to what he assumed would be a life of isolation and loneliness.

 

Struggling to sift through his overwhelming emotions began to make Wade feel more than a little sick to his stomach, and the nicotine was not helping. It only added to the fire gnawing at his guts, his stomach cramping and begging for something to be put into it. In the almost eerie silence, Wade could hear the occasional gargling sound erupting through his skin.

 

' _Shut up_ ' His hand balled into a fist so tight his nails threatened to cut into his palm. Mustering up his meager strength, Wade pressed into his stomach. Hard enough to bruise, to deepen the already existing contusions that marred his abdomen.

 

Of _course_ he was hungry, he hadn't eaten since yesterday, and that had just been junk food and a couple of Peter's stuffed mushrooms, washed down with black coffee.

 

Wade knew what his body could take, he wasn't in any sort of danger, and he wasn't going to keel over on the subway home. He would just be uncomfortable until the next time he ate, which could be anywhere from tomorrow to a week from now. It depended on how his brain decided to handle things. Wade alternated between starving and binging; honest-to-goodness feast or famine, and eating just because he was hungry seemed _odd_ to him.

 

Just like all of his coping mechanisms, Nate had a lot to say about his eating habits. He never explicitly said anything to Wade's face, because he didn't have the evidence to support the theory (and Nate was all about theories and proving them, the smug bastard loved being right) but Wade had heard the older man more than once on the phone, expressing concern to his friends over what to do about his "obvious eating disorder."

 

He should have been flattered or touched by Nate and his stupid overprotective concern for his wellbeing, but all it did was offend him.

 

Wade had been taking care of himself his whole damn life, he didn't need someone who truly didn't know him or his life to step in and try and fix what Wade knew was broken.

 

There was nothing that could be done for him, there was no " _saving him_." There were no tearful interventions where he promised to get better and stayed that way. There were no happy endings for him.

 

This was his life, and if Nathan couldn't understand that, couldn't deal, then maybe it was a good thing he ditched him.

 

The blonde pulled his knees to his chest, like a bug rolled on its back protecting their underbelly. Thinking about Nate always made him feel two things. The first was anger, pure, easy to manage anger. Anger over being abandoned, over the breakup, over the whispered loving phrases that, like always, proved to be false.

 

Then there was sadness. A deep, unbearable sadness that tore at the very core of him. It was a sadness born from the fact that Wade had believed him, believed that Nate was the person he was destined to be with, that he had found what everyone liked to call a "soul mate."

 

But Wade didn't have a soul, he had a pile of garbage inside him that rotted under the heat of his heart. He had nothing to give, but everything to take, he was a parasitise.

 

And parasites don't get to know love.

 

So he knew the answer, he had to leave, he had to run before the pain set in, the pain of having himself removed from Peter's side. He was a leech, and when you want a leech gone you throw salt on it. Eventually (today, tomorrow, years from now) the salt would come and burn the flesh from his bones, would make him vomit up the life and the love he had sucked and leave him dying in agony.

 

And Wade knew he couldn't take it, he knew that if Peter broke his heart the way Nate did, he _wouldn't_ survive.

 

' _Just go_.'

 

Wade slinked from the desk over to where his clothes still laid in a heap. If he hurried he could get dressed and catch the ten o'clock subway home. He could slip away before Peter woke up and spare himself the pain of rejection. He could keep this memory, untainted and pure, in his mind for when he needed to feel something other than pain.

 

Wade's whole _existence_ was shrouded in pain. Had he ever known relief? He couldn't remember. All he knew was that everything hurt, and hurt badly. He was alone, and he didn't want to be alone.

 

His fingers stalled on the buttons of his shorts, shaking as he struggled to remember what a fly was and how to work it. If he left, then he would go back home, right? And home was just a pit of despair that he could never crawl out of.

 

But if he stayed, then he was just putting off the inevitable. He was damaging Peter, and himself.

 

If Wade killed himself now, how might that change things? If he lept from the window, would it even kill him? Maybe if he landed on his head it would do the trick. Would Peter want to wake up and see his entrails splayed across the campus, and would he even _care?_ Would other students peer out the window and be met by an eyeful of his remains, coating the sidewalk and washing down the storm drains? Nate, Weasel, Al, who would tell them of his death? They probably would rather not know about it, and move on with the rest of their lives without the knowledge of their acquaintance flattened on the ground.

 

Wade wants to, he wants to end it all right now. Death is his last option.

 

He was tired.

 

He was tired of being gross, he was tired of being unwanted, he was tired of being a monster, he was tired of being hurt.

 

So, so _tired_.

 

Wade wanted to, he wanted to more than he had wanted anything before. Death would be so beautiful, so quiet, he needed it. 

 

But the softest, prettiest voice he has ever known interrupted him.

 

"Good morning beautiful." 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Insert gif of Mushu going I LIVEEEE here-
> 
> Sooooo...It's been so long I don't even know what to say, other than thank you all so much for being so cool! I received a lot of very kind messages encouraging me to keep writing, and asking if and when this story would return. 
> 
> Well here I ammmm, and I'm not going anywhere! 
> 
> As always comments and kudos are appreciated greatly, but not required. Thank you for taking the time to read. You are amazing and great, and it feels so good to be back! 
> 
> Till next time my peeps! http://orig14.deviantart.net/401e/f/2013/340/e/1/spideypool_gif_thing_by_furdonkadonk-d6wwu8z.gif
> 
> :3


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